Love Pudding
by GoldenBlitz
Summary: UKxUS Hetalia High School AU! You know you wanna read it! Written from Arthur's POV. T for language and some suggestive themes. No lemons or anything of the sort, people. Please review! :D
1. Garçon Américain

First chapter is up! Review (please please please please) and I will most definetely continue!

First story here _and_ first shounen-ai written :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Hetalia =P

**Pairing:** Mainly ArthurxAlfred, though there's some RoderichxElizaveta, TinoxBerwald, and LudwigxFeliciano

**Warning: **Contains references to adult themes and cursing.

Slapper- british for _tramp_.

Rubbish bin- trash can

Plonker- idiot

**Thank you, **Pieces of Sky**, for the corrections :)

* * *

**Chapter 1- ****Garçon Américain**

When I was a little kid, I used to love reading fantasy stories. You know, the ones where there's a beautiful princess, an evil witch, a horrible monster, and, of course, the noble prince.

Back then, my house was a real mess. My three older brothers were always getting all the attention from my parents, wheather it was for their excellent grades or for their terrible attitudes. They barely had time to pay attention to a brat like me, especially after the baby, Peter, was born.

Since no one else had the time to read stories to me, I had to learn to read at an early age in order to enjoy them. I used to read them every night, by myself, while my brothers and my parents were all sleeping. I remember dreaming of one day saving a princess who would become my wife, and we'd live happily ever after.

Of course, I was a kid back then, and I had no idea that love could be so crazy.

"Ah, Arthur~! Mon ami~!"

A voice called from far away behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who the guy that was calling me was. I always met him on the way to school, I was actually already expecting his french arse to appear.

I didn't stop walking, nor did I turn around to greet him. Not because I'm rude, but because I didn't feel like it.

"How hard is it for you to wait a little?" The taller blond guy asked once he finally got next to me. I sent him a smart-ass smile as an answer, but then I turned to look ahead and my serious expression returned. "...Are you alright, cher?"

"Why? I'm fine, Francis." I replied, trying to smile again.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously not buying it. "Mon cher, please. Do you really think I'm _that_ stupid?"

Damn it, I hate that Francis can read people so well. Freaking frog.

I let out a tired sigh. It's not like I could fool him when it came down to anything related to emotions (or perverted stuff). So I decided to let the frog know why I was trully concerned, though I knew I was gonna regret it later. "I just don't feel like going to school."

Francis laughed, to my surprise. I growled. I _knew_ I was gonna regret it.

"Oh, Arthur! Don't be so down! We're going to have a lot of fun this year! We're almost over with school! That's magnifique!"

Magnifique for _him_. Since I entered this school (last year, tenth grade), Francis had always been popular. Both with girls as much as with guys. He looks, and I'm quoting a couple of girls, like an "_angel"_. Well, it's true Francis is quite handsome with his long blond hair and his blue eyes, but I still wouldn't describe him as an "_angel"_. In my opinion, he's more like a good-looking man-whore. ...What? That's what he is. Even _he_ accepts it.

Francis kept talking and talking and talking about what he was going to do as soon as we got to school. In the meantime, I acted like I was listening. But I wasn't. I was too preocupied with something else.

And what might that 'something else' be? I didn't know it myself.

It was a feeling that sort of made me want to puke. ...Perhaps I shouldn't have let Gareth make breakfast for me, even if he insisted. Anyway, I doubt it was Gareth's fault, though, because I had been feeling like this for a while now.

I felt too tired to get up every morning, too tired to study, too tired to smile at everyone like I promised myself I would. There was just no reason to do it. What difference would it make if I smiled at someone in the street? They wouldn't care, they had their own problems to worry about. ...Oh, shut up, I'm not depressed!

...Well, perhaps just a little. But my magnificent self wouldn't admit it out loud. Ever.

As soon as we got to school we went to check which our homeroom would be. It was pretty early, so barely any student was around. After checking, Francis and I had to part ways. I went upstairs and walked through the empty hallways until I found my homeroom. I wasn't surprised to see that the room was not open, the teacher was probably at the teacher's room, getting a cup of coffee to be prepared to handle a bunch of eleventh graders. I sat down in a bench outside the classroom and took a book out of my bag. I had a good amount of time to continue the fascinating story of Dorian Gray.

Actually, I couldn't even get past the first paragraph of Chapter II. Some git tapped my shoulder rather aggressively, disrupting my peace and quiet. Just to make sure the person understood how utterly _annoying_ he was being, I turned to see him with a prominent scowl on my face.

Turns out it wasn't a _he_, it was a _she_. And it wasn't just any she, it was Elizaveta. Instantly, my scowl was replaced with a smile.

However, Elizaveta hadn't missed the prominent scowl. "Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur! I shouldn't have interrupted you!"

"No, no, it's alright, Elizaveta." I moved to the side and gestured her to sit down. "Do take a sit. How was your summer? I heard you and Roderich visited each other quite oftenly."

"W-well...y-yeah, you could say that." She blushed deeply and fiddled with the gray skirt from her uniform. "H-how about you, Arhur? Did you have fun?"

"Oh, summer was alright. I got a job." ...Yes, I did get a job. ...About two weeks later I got fired for having a fight with one of the costumers.

"That's cool! Are you saving money for that thing you wanted so badly?"

"Yeah, I've got a little more than half of the money already." It had taken me a _long_ time to get the money, mind you, reader.

We kept talking about the summer. Well, actually, I encouraged _her_ to keep talking about the summer. I didn't really want to share my summer with anyone, it was too boring. All through the talk, I had to fake a smile and laughter.

It's not that I don't like Elizaveta, oh no. She's one of the few persons in this school that I actually get along with well enough to call her a friend. I just didn't want her to think there was something wrong with me. She tends to worry too much over her friends and I didn't want to keep her from having a fantastic day today.

After about fifteen minutes, more and more students starting getting to the school. The hallways were now bustling with tons of kids from seventh to twelvth grade, all of them either really exited or really pissed about starting a new school year. Finally, our homeroom teacher arrived and opened the door to the classroom.

I knew some of my classmates already.

There was Lovino Vargas, an italian kid with a younger twin brother in the same grade, but in a different classroom. Lovino...well, he is aggressive. I think that's a good word to describe him. He is also quite overprotective of his brother, Feliciano, even if Lovino keeps complaining about him.

Tino Väinämöinen was seating peacefully in one of the desks, saying goodbye to his close Swedish friend, who is a year older than us. The kid, Tino, is very nice and easy to get along with. On the other hand, Berwald Oxenstierna, the Swede, is...well, he is rather frightening if you ask me. BUT, if you ask Peter, my younger brother, Berwald is really cool and fun to hang out with. Yes, I think you should know this: Berwald is Peter's babysitter. He's the only person in the whole city that would offer himself to look after Peter. He's tough stuff, and I _really_ respect the guy.

...Was that...Feliks? Oh God..._Feliks_. That guy is a whole case. He is strong and kind of smart, but he is _so_ lazy and carefree it is almost ridiculous! I will never know how it is possible for him to be in eleventh grade!

Right next to Feliks were two girls that I didn't recognize, along with Toris Loraitis. As far as I know, Toris is a quiet guy that follows Feliks around, even though Feliks acts like a selfish jerk sometimes. Tino, on the other hand, once said that Toris is quite strong and intelligent. I wouldn't know, I've never really met the guy.

A couple of Elizaveta's female friends arrived later. Although I didn't quite know them as much as other people did, I knew that one of them was from America and the other one was from Hungary, like Elizaveta.

A group of three guys and two girls soon joined our conversation. Now, I had no idea of who any of them were. I'd seen them around the hallways last year, but I really didn't know them. So, as the gentleman I am, I introduced myself politely as Arthur Kirkland. One of the guys and the girls that arrived complimented my accent.

Then there was Elizaveta, plus me, this made 15 students. Quite a small class, but it was normal for a private school.

The bell rang, making us all sit down in the wooden desks aligned in rows and columns. The teacher, who had been outside talking with another teacher, walked inside, holding a steaming cup of something (probably coffee, since no one in this place drinks tea except for a few of us) with one hand and a black portfolio with the other one. He placed the portfolio on top of his gray desk and took a silent sip from his beverage before placing down the cup next to the portfolio.

"Good morning, students. First of all, let me make sure all of you are here and aren't late today." He greeted in a rather cheerful voice. The guy was quite young, actually. I'd say he was in his late 20's or early 30's. According to his list, one of our classmates was missing, so we were actually going to be 16, not 15. After taking attendance, he took out a stack of papers from his portfolio. "I'm your homeroom teacher, and I'll also be teaching English to you. My name is Edward Thomas, you can call me Mr. T or Mr. Thomas."

Ah English...my favorite subject by far. So easy, yet so hard at the same time. Fantastic way to start the day, I say.

"Let me hand out my rules and expectations. Anyone wants to volun—?" A set of knocks interrupted the teacher. "Hmm?" Mr. Thomas walked towards the door curiously.

"Sorry for being late, sir." The voice of a boy answered as soon as the teacher opened the door. "I'm new at this school. I helped my brother find his classroom, but later I couldn't find mine. Can I still come in?"

"Why, certainly." The teacher moved to the side and let the boy slip into the room. "I'm betting you're Mr. Jones?"

"Yes, I'm Alfred F. Jones." He answered with a wide grin in his face.

"Nice to meet you, Alfred, I'm your English teacher, Mr. Thomas. Why don't you help me hand out these?" Mr. Thomas gave Alfred the pieces of paper. While he was handing them out, the teacher turned to us and began to explain.

Anyway, I'm betting most of you won't be familiar with how my school works. It's realtively simple, actually.

First, we have our classmates. Unlike many other schools that make their students switch classmates everytime they switch a subject, we stay this way for the whole year. Well, unless you change your schedule and your classroom. The only time our classmates are sepparated from each other are during recess and during electives. ...And at the end of the day, obviously. In other words, I'll be in the same classroom as Elizaveta, Tino, Feliks, Lovino, Toris, and that-other-bunch-of-people-that-I-know-nothing-about from the first to the last period. Everyday.

Then, we have the basic schedule for all eleventh (and twelvth) graders:

1st Period & HR - 7:45 – 8:33

2nd Period - 8:38 – 9:26

BREAK - 9:26 - 9:36

3rd Period - 9:40 – 10:28

4th Period - 10:33 – 11:21

5th Period - 11:26 – 12:14

**Lunch**-12:14 – 12:49

6th Period - 12:54 - 1:42

7th Period - 1:47 - 2:35

This was the drill for a whole two weeks. Yes, reader, I just skipped the first 2 weeks of my new year at school. What are you going to do to me? ... ... ...Please refrain yourself from voicing out those dirty thoughts. Anyway, you don't want to know what happened because it's boring and it's not what you are looking forward to. The interesting things began to happen to me _later_.

Monday morning of the third week started out quite boringly, actually. In case you are wondering (and I'm sure you are), I hadn't spoken to anyone outside of my usual friendly circle in the classroom, which included only Elizaveta and sometimes Tino. However, I have to admit that I did glance a couple of times towards that new american student. Okay, so maybe I found myself staring at him for almost entire periods, so what? He wasn't bad looking, and it's not a crime to stare!

Many girls in the classroom flirted with him (though I could tell he had no idea that they were flirting with him even though they did many...suggestive things in front of him. He's that bright.). Well, he was handsome, of course. He wasn't just _any_ random teenager. Messy blond hair colored in dirty blond, with one (cute) strand sticking up; charming ocean-blue eyes covered by square glasses; andsoft-looking white skin. That's Alfred F. Jones, just so you know. Sounds really good, hmm? He was always grinning, always smiling and laughing... It was a whole experience to just look at him. His perfect teeth, skin, hair, eyes made his loudness bearable.

Umm...Just because I said that he is good-looking doesn't mean that I _like_ him. Though he actually did make the strange feeling inside me go away. The one that kept me from wanting to go to school. Everytime I'd wake up my mind would race into thoughts about him. It was nice to feel happier now, though I would never in my whole life accept it.

Ever.

Sometime during the first period I stopped paying attention to Mr. Thomas, mainly because one of the girls (whose name I didn't know, mind you) handed me a fucsia post-it that was folded until it was tiny.

A note, how _cute_.

Not even glancing at its contents, I put it away in my pocket because it would be rude to just throw it to the rubbish bin (though it was what I really wanted to do). _Maybe_ I'd take a look at it later. ...Probably not.

Of course the giggly girl who had written the note practically jumped onto my desk as soon as the bell rang. "So, what do you think?" She asked, leaning closer to me in a suggestive position and pressing her arms closer in order to...well, I'm sure most of you know what part of her body she wanted me to notice.

"About what?" I asked in an emotionless tone as I put my books away.

"Oh, you know." She pushed my shoulder with one of her hands as if she were teasing me.

"...Trully, I have no idea what you are talking about." I answered, faking a curious tone of voice.

She apparently bought it, because she answered: "The note, silly!"

I mentally rolled my eyes at her. "Ah, the note. Yes, the note." I stood up, dusting my outfit. "I haven't read it yet. I'll read it when I have time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I began to walk away, not turning back to see the expression in her face (the main reason was because I'd probably laugh so hard it would ruin the 'in your face, bitch' mood I set).

When I was just a few steps away from the door, she grabbed my hand and turned me around. Her expression was scary to me, though I'm sure many people who are into girls would rather say it was '_naughty'_.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur..." She shook her head with a creepy smile in her face. "_Nobody_ rejects me. I'm sure you'll think it over, right? About what the note said, I mean."

"Uh...sure." I tried to smile at her, but it came out more like a 'get the bloody hell away from me, bitch' type of expression. "Would you mind letting go of my hand?" I asked, beginning to tug my hand away from her grasp. It had the oppposite effect, to my disdain. She actually tightened her grip and leaned closer to me.

"Oh, _Arthur_, I'm gonna have so much _fun_ with you this year." She was so close I could feel her breath in my neck and her breasts touching my chest. She trailed her hand down my chest (in an annoying way, just so you know). "Would you like to know what kinds of things I'm planning for us?"

"Please, don't spoil it for me." I mumbled uninterested. "Would you let go of my hand? I write with that one. It would be rather troublesome for me to learn how to right with my other hand in," I looked at my watch, "three minutes if you happen to tear it away. Thank you." And with that, I left.

I'm going to make a very rude assumption that all my readers are straight, though I'm _sure_ not all of you are.

If you're a guy, you're probably smashing your head numerous times against the wall and calling me something along the lines of: "THAT MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE JUST IGNORED A HOT CHICK WHO WAS _ASKING_ HIM TO PRETTY MUCH HAVE _SEX_ WITH HER IN FRONT OF THE TEACHER!"

On the other hand, if you're a girl, you're probably grinning maniacally and nodding proudly, thinking that a gentleman like me shouldn't ever give a scoundrel like her the privilege of touching past the limits of decency. Probably the words "Easy-whore" or "bitch" slipped out of your mouth and you didn't even notice until your mother/father/sibling/grandma/grandpa/neighbor/pet yelled at you for being so rude.

Here's the deal, wheather you are expecting it or not (...you probably are): I'm not as interested in girls as much as the guys in my classroom are. Excluding Feliks, and maybe (ahem, probably, ahem) Tino. I just wanted to get that straight. No pun intended.

Once I got to my second period, I dozed off. It was just History class, and we were studying about Henry VIII. I'm from England, how would I _not_ know that subject?

The class had been going quite slowly. The teacher was saying something about a project, I could always ask someone to explain it to me again, so this time I went completely blank and began to wonder what we would have for dinner tonight. Well, at least until I heard someone calling my name.

"Arhtur Kirkland and..." The teacher examined the classroom closely, "and Heather Williams."

...Who the hell was Heather Williams? I turned around the classroom, trying to find the bearer of that name. To my utter dismay, I was greeted by the face of the girl who had given me the post-it, winking at me and licking her lips.

I'm not kidding.

In a few seconds I was silently begging the Lord to please let that be a list stating which persons are not allowed to be partners during a project _or_ interact with each other through the whole year.

But apparently, He was not listening to me.

"Alright, let's choose the next partners for this project..." She scanned the room again.

For a while, the teacher kept assigning partners. Her attention (as well as the Lord's) was completely away from me and my silent pleads for her to change my partner to someone less dangerous. Like a rabid polar bear, Vlad the Impaler, Rasputin, or Jack the Ripper, or maybe even a mixture of the four.

She frowned suddenly. Maybe she actually recieved the pleads and thought my inside joke wasn't funny.

"Alfred F Jones and..." The frown returned. "Let's see, who should you be with, Mr. Jones?" She scanned the room again. "Oh! Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland."

Heather's face twisted into a combination between anger, a rabid polar bear, and Vlad the Impaler. Hmm...strange.

"Is something wrong, Miss Williams?" She asked, acting as if she was completely oblivious to the similarity between Heather's expression and Vlad.

"You said Arthur and I would be in the same team, Ms. Sophie." Wow, was she a good actress. She faked that sweet voice so well I wouldn't even think she was extremely pissed off unless I knew her.

"Yes, but I believe Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Jones will do a better job as a team."

"How can you know that, Ms?" Her voice had become less sweet than a while ago. I could tell _now_ she was angry. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that you know them well enough to make a decision based on that."

No one. Said. A word.

We were all expecting the teacher to give some sort of punishment to Heather because of what she said and the rude way it sounded. But no. In fact, Ms. Sophie let out a really charming laughter that looked good on her because of her pretty feminine features, "Oh, Miss Williams, you are quite funny. What do you think, boys? Do you think you'll do a good job together?" She was now turning at both Alfred and I, her face was as bright as sunshine.

"_Of course_ we'll do a good job, Ms. Sophie." I answered immediately before _anyone _dared to pair Heather and me again. "Isn't that right, Alfred?"

"Definetely!" He answered with the enthusiasm of a kid that was getting a new toy. ...Wow, now _that_ had double sense.

"You see, Ms. Williams? Even they agree with me. I believe Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Jones know themselves well enough to assume that. Now, on with the lesson!" She turned around and began writing on the board. "Who can tell me the names of the wives of Henry VIII?"

The teacher of the fifth period was kind enough to give us free time for the remaining 15 minutes since we had managed to get done with the lesson of that day earlier. Just fifteen minutes more and we'd be free to have our lunch break.

"Hey!" I shot my head up once I heard someone's voice calling. It was that kid, Alfred F. Jones. "Wow, dude, were you lost in the book? I've been calling you a few times now."

I raised an eyebrow. ..._Dude_? Did he _really_ just call me that? "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Someone told me you were british!" He answered goofily.

_What_? Seriously, interrupting my reading of Oscar Wilde just for _that_? "...No way, really?" I faked a surprised voice. "Let me write that down so I don't forget!" ...Don't give me that look, I was mad at him for asking such a stupid question after we'd been in the same classroom for 2 WEEKS.

Surprisingly, Alfred didn't frown or call me any distasteful names. In fact, he laughed. His laughter was rather pleasant, I must admit, and it was contagious, so I have to agree that I did smile a little as well. But only a little. I felt a lightly warm feeling in my cheeks, so I rubbed my nose quickly, giving a stupid (_stupid_) excuse that I was about to sneeze.

Alfred sat down in the seat in front of me and turned around. "Let's start from the beginning, okay? I'm Alfred F. Jones. What's your name?" He offered his hand to greet me, which I took with curiosity.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland." I was _about_ to say 'A pleasure to meet you', but I just closed my mouth and kept shaking his hand. ...I think I looked quite stupid just shaking his hand for about ten straight seconds.

"Sweet. ...So...when are we getting together for the project?"

...Project? _Oh_, right. "Any week day is fine by me, as long as it's after 4:30, I have football practice. During the weekend—"

"_You_ play _football_?" Alfred's face tilted to the side in confusion. "But you're...just...not big enough. What are you? The ball?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me...?" Then it hit me. The guy was american, of course he was going to assume I played that brute sport of his. "No, you git. I'm _English_, I don't play _American_ Football."

"Oh, of course! So you play Soccer!" Alfred smiled, completely oblivious to the fact that I'd just dissed him.

"It's called _football_, not soccer." I replied in a headstrong manner.

"Not in my country." Alfred grinned goofily.

Well, your country is full of morons and idiots. (I apologize if you are american, dear reader.) _We_ conquered _you_. Why on Earth would you change the name of one of the _best_ sports in the world, you bunch of plonkers?

"Umm...Arthur?" Alfred called, waking me from my thoughts.

I must've looked _really_ ridiculous.

"Uhh...sorry...what?"

Alfred laughed loudly, making the heat return to my face because of embarrassment. "Wow, you get lost in your thoughts a lot! Anyway, what were you saying about weekends?"

I grumbled. "I have...other things to do on Saturdays and Sundays from ten to twelve in the morning. Also, it's impossible for me to go anywhere on Fridays. I have too much work to do."

Alfred stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "...Wow dude, you have a tight schedule. What are you? A business man?"

There he was with his _dude_ thing again. Plonker. "Now that you know my schedule, feel free to contact me anytime within my free time. Or, if you'd like, I could contact you."

"No, it's alright, I'll call you." Alfred answered, now his expression was back to a bright smile. "Could I get your phone number?"

NO. By _no_ means, you cannot get my phone number. EVER.

"Cell phone number." I corrected as I wrote down my cell phone number in a piece of paper. "Don't call me at home."

"Why?"

Because then my brothers, who know about my sexual preference, would bully me so much I would have to live under a rock for the rest of my life.

"I may not be there."

"Why?"

"...None of your business."

"Why?"

"Because." I answered, getting my book out again. "If you would kindly excuse me, I'd like to continue reading."

Please go away.

"...Why?"

"Because I enjoy Oscar Wilde's way of narrating with scrutinizing detail and..." Why was I giving him a serious answer if he was beginning to grin goofily again? "Just leave, you git!"

Alfred chuckled, but he still got up from his chair. I don't know what he was thinking when he did this, but he _dared_ to ruffle _my_ hair. "I'll call you later." Then he left, winking an eye at me and flashing a smile.

I pushed the thoughts of to the back of my head and grunted in response.

You can say whatever you want to say about Ms. Sophie, but I still trust that her decision of changing my partner from someone like Vladimir the Impaler to someone with the IQ of an isolated turnip was the correct one.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Even though the person who was calling my name was Elizaveta I couldn't help but think: Oh God, what now?

"I need to tell you something! Yesterday Roderich and I...Why are you blushing?" She asked once she was next to me, Tino sitting where Alfred had sat down a few seconds ago.

"For no reason." I answered as expressionless as I could, not putting my book down. I was _so_ not blushing. ...Really! "What were you saying about Roderich?"

Elizabeta turned a little red, but she was smarter than that. "Don't change the subject! What happened just now?"

Tino couldn't help but smile at her stubborness.

"Nothing." I replied, giving a light shrug.

"Come on, Arthur, I always tell you everything~." She pleaded.

"Alright, you want to know why I'm slightly red?" _...Slightly, right._ I put the book down and sighed. "I read a very suggestive scene in _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. Satisfied?"

They looked at me with doubt in their eyes, especially Tino. Elizaveta, however, eventually gave up and continued telling me the love escapade she had with Roderich, the austrian guy in our same grade but in a different classroom. Good thing she never reads Oscar Wilde.

During our lunch break, Elizaveta and Tino kept glancing at me and exchanging whispers and nods. When I turned to see them, Elizaveta giggled and blushed, while Tino just smiled at me kindly. They knew I was listening to them, the gits.

The other people who were seating around me, including Francis, were too preocupied with their foods and their own talks to focus in the exchange between Elizaveta and Tino. Even Roderich, who was usually at Elizaveta's side, was having a heated argument with Gilbert.

Honestly, I didn't know what that Gilbert guy was doing here. He was supposed to be in university. His younger brother, Ludwig, besides being much more...charming and calm than Gilbert, was a senior. By charming I mean quiet and peaceful. (May I add that he was mighty close with Feliciano, which made Lovino pretty angry).

"EEEP!" Tino almost fell to the floor when Berwald's big hand touched his shoulder. He turned around, and upon seeing the tall man, he sighed calmly and placed a hand on his small chest. "Oh, Berwald, you scared me."

To my amusement, Berwald's expression switched into one that included both surprise and guilt. "S'rry." He looked exactly like a sad Rottweiler. Some think it's cute, some think it's scary, some think it's just wrong.

Tino smiled sweetly at him, though I could see he was a little nervous. "D-don't feel bad. You surprised me, that's it. Are you hungry?" Berwald's expression changed back to normal, as he nodded and sat down next to Tino quietly.

Though peeping is not my normal activity, I watched from the corner of my eyes how...close they were to each other. Berwald was very tall and mighty intimidating, while Tino was much smaller and girlier in appearance. Some random voice at the back of my head thought they made a cute couple. I made a mental note to stop hanging out so much with Elizaveta and her friends.

"Arth'r—"

I heard Berwald's trademark accent call my name, and I almost jumped as well. Had he seen me staring at them? My eyes widened a little and a blush threatened to appear in my face. I turned to see him, trying to look as calm as always. "Yes?"

"Y' s'id Pet'r ne'ds a b'bys'tt'r Fr'd'y, r'ght?"

I was so nervous with being caught that I couldn't understand him, though I usually could. I blinked in confussion. "...excuse me, _what_?"

"Berwald asked if you needed a babysitter for Peter this Friday." Tino answered. He was used to being Berwald's translator by now, so he could understand the man perfectly well.

All the threats of my blush vanished immediately when they mentioned Peter. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Would you please do me that favor, Berwald? I have business to attend to on Friday and I certainly can't take Peter with me."

Berwald nodded. "'T wh't t'me?"

"The usual time." I answered, giving him the only true smile I had given anyone for the last weeks. "Thank you so much, Berwald. You have no idea of how grateful I am for this. I promise I'll try to make it up to you somehow." Even if I was already paying him, I felt like the money he charged for taking care of my monster-little-brother wasn't enough.

While many teenagers try to slip away from babysitting their younger siblings (especially if they act like Peter) just for the hell of it, I had a reason why I needed Berwald to help me this Friday. I couldn't take Peter to the place where I was going. Really, I _couldn't_.

Berwald shook his head. "It's n't a pr'bl'm at all."

I sent him a smile again, though this one wasn't as true as the last one. The calm mood was interrupted by some moron yelling at the top of his lungs all the way from the other side of the cafeteria. We all turned around to see who the poor bastard that was being called out so fervently was.

"ARTHUR!"

Oh _no_. No, no, no, no, no, no...

"Arthur, hey!" It was the git. And I was the poor bastard. He was waving at me fervently as he approached the table.

The whole cafeteria began to laugh and whisper. I sank in my seat and buried my face in the book I was reading while the american made his way through the cafeteria. He sat down right next to me and ruffled my hair. _Again_. "Hey, Arthur! I've gotta tell you something! Did you know—! Hmm...? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"No, Alfred, I'm not sick." I answered, my voice muffled since I was still hiding my face in the book, though now it was because of a different reason. No, I wasn't blushing. ...Maybe just a little.

"Are you sure?" He snatched the book away from my hands so quickly that I couldn't take it back. When he saw my face, Alfred gasped. "You're as red as a tomato, you know? Arthur, are you sure you aren't sick?"

I growled and shook my head. "I'm _not_ sick. It's the weather."

"But—"

"Ah, mon ami! Who is this handsome young man and why haven't you introduced us yet?" Francis took Alfred's hand and kissed it once. "My name is Francis Bonnefoy! It's a pleasure to meet such a delicious young man!"

Alfred grinned and retrieved his hand from the french. "My name is Alfred F Jones. Please stay away from me."

Maybe he isn't as stupid as he acts.

Finally, school had ended. Now I was walking home, along with Francis, to get the _football_ (not soccer, _football_) uniform from my house, which was really close to the school. Practice didn't start until 3:30 anyway.

"How has school been for you, mon cher?" Francis asked in a trully interested voice.

"Ah, fine." I answered with a light shrug, not even turning to see him.

"Nothing interesting has happened to you?"

I raised an eyebrow, now turning at him. "Interesting? ...Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like _someone_ giving you a note?"

"You knew she would give me the note all along?" I stoppped, my mouth was hanging open. This guy got along with her friends, how could he not know?

"Calm down, calm down!" He laughed and raised his hands in defense. "I didn't know. Someone told me she was really pissed off because you rejected her, that's it. I knew nothing. What did the note say, anyways?"

"...I don't know, I never read it."

Francis looked at me in disbelief. "Oh, you foolish Englishman! You should _always_ read the notes anyone gives you! You haven't thrown it away, have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I think I haven't." I mumbled, digging into my pocket to fetch out the eye-murdering fucsia post-it. "Here it is."

"Well, read it!"

Do you want to know what the bloody note said? Here it is:

_Hi! I kno we dont kno each other that much, but i think ur totally hot!_

_Omg wed be ttly cute together!_

_Lets go out this friday k? im having a party and ur totally invited. U can get earlier if you want to._

_We could have some fun my parents arent gonna be there..._

_XoXo_

_Heather *_

Francis was covering his mouth, trying not to giggle. Of course, he failed miserably and began to laugh his french arse off a few seconds later. Histerically, by the way.

Meanwhile, I was glaring at the butchered English this so-called 16 year old girl had "written".

"Mon Dieu!" Francis said between his laughter fits, "this is hilarious!"

"Are you out of your mind? It's bloody scary!" I crumpled the fucsia paper and tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin. "I didn't even _know_ her name was Heather until our second period this morning!"

"And I presume she still doesn't know about your preferences, hm?" Francis said with a teasing tone.

"I hope not." I glared at Francis. "You and Elizaveta are the only ones supposed to know. I presume that is still the case."

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone anything about you. It's not like they ask, anyway." Francis answered, ruffling my hair.

Even though I hate to admit it, the familiar feeling reminded me of Alfred. I felt another blush creeping to my face, so I immediately turned away. Sadly, I forgot that Francis wasn't as stupid as he looked.

"Mon cher! Are you blushing?" He grabbed the tip of my chin and turned my head towards him. "Oh, what a surprise! You had never blushed when I touched you before! What does this mean?"

I pushed his hand off my face with a scowl. "Shut up, I'm not blushing. I just...It's the weather, that's it."

"Sure, mon cher, sure." He smiled at me. "Is this the way your body expresses your deep love for me? ...Or perhaps there's another reason...?" He grinned as if he knew something I didn't. "...Do you know what 'love at first sight' is?"

"Francis, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I just thought that you and that _américain garçon_ got along quite well in the cafeteria, that's all." He swayed his hand playfully. I was about to say a really cool comeback, but he interrupted me. "Oh look! Time goes by so quickly! We've arrived at your home already. Au revoir, mon cher!"

And then he walked away.

...Love at first sight? What was he talking about?

* * *

If you review, I'll try to convince Alfred and Arthur to go to your house dressed in pink bunny suits and take baskets full of ale and whiskey. :3


	2. Blood Pudding

**Ch. 2 – Blood Pudding**

WOW.

You don't know how nervous I was when I saw I had e-mails from this webpage. _Really._ **THANK YOU.** It means a lot, I don't recieve any advise/criticism/anything from my friends because they don't like Hetalia ... or any other anime, actually (maybe they'll listen to me when I'm excited, but I try not to bother them too much and they don't read my stories).

**You are all the best!** :D

Here's chapter two!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hetalia, there would be MUCH MORE Arthur x Alfred.

(Oh! If you like yaoi/shounen-ai/boy love as in...well, with real people, you should watch a movie called "Shelter". Best movie ever of that genre.)

Manky- gross. It's actually derived from a french word, haha.

Smashing- terrific.

Prat- idiot

Wanker- ...I'm pretty sure most of you know what that means.

Bugger- jerk

*Blood pudding (as far as I understand) is a recipe for making sausage.

* * *

It would be fun to to tell you that as soon as I got home my brothers ruffled my hair and called me 'champ' or something like that. But no, that's not how they work.

I opened the locked doors with my keys and walked inside the white, pretty duplex that was my house. The loud sound of the T.V. and my brother laughing were the only sounds that I heard inside the house.

"Oh, this guy's hilarious!"

"Hey, Gareth." I greeted him as I walked passt the living room and toward the kitchen. I threw my bag over the couch, right next to my brother.

"What's up, Arthur?" He greeted me with his typical wide grin.

I looked around, expecting to see my father pop out of somewhere. "...Where's dad?"

"He went to pick Peter up." He replied, turning down the volume of the T.V. and getting up from the couch. "Mom's at the store. We ran out of a few things."

"Oh...alright." I answered, shrugging lightly and walking into the kitchen. "What about Collin? I thought he'd be around."

"Oh, he's at the pub. My uncle was serious about giving him lessons on how to deal with drunk costumers." Gareth followed me into the kitchen, abandoning his T.V. show. "Anyway, are you going back to school today?"

"Yes, football tryouts are today."

"Why do you even go to the tryouts? The coach _loves_ you, it's not like she's gonna say 'no' to one of the few people who actually scores goals." Gareth sat down on a chair and crossed his arms. "...even though you're tiny compared to the rest of the team, fairy."

Here we go again.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, shut up, Gareth. For once I thought you were being nice to your own brother."

"Awww, I couldn't resist! Even Peter is threatening to grow taller than you, pixie!"

"Don't call me _pixie_." I glared at him. Then I turned around and opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. "Peter is just growing up faster than I did, that's it."

Actually, Peter was already taller than me (when I was his age, of course). Deep inside me, I have to accept that I _was_ a little scared that my younger brother would grow up to be taller than I. If he did happen to grow taller, I would officially be the shortest member of the family. My other brothers are tall and well-built, just a few centimeres shorter than Berwald and Ivan Braginski, the scary Russian guy that is in twelvth grade.

"Oh, by the way, Adam called." Gareth said from his seat as I pulled out a plastic container with different kinds of fruits inside. "He says he'll be visiting us for Christmas."

"About time." I mumbled, grabbing a piece of apple and popping it into my mouth.

Adam is my oldest brother. He is already 26-years-old, making him 10 years older than me. I don't know how he managed to get married to a woman as beautiful as his wife, but the guy did. It's not that he's bad looking, he just used to have a lot of trouble talking with girls when he was younger (though he doesn't admit it unless he's drunk). Adam is pale, with brown hair, light blue eyes, and thick eyebrows. He is tall and very strong, with a very big body, though he isn't fat. This will sound pretty strange, but he's the owner of a flower shop and is married to an art teacher. They live in a cute little house, far in the country. His wife teaches in a government school to children that live in ranches, which is the reason they barely come to visit. He used to be a _real_ juvenile delinquent when he was a teenager and he used to bother me a lot when I was a little boy. However, I still love my brother, especially now that he is acting more mature and bothers me less.

After Adam, there's Gareth, who is 24-years-old. Gareth is pretty tall, almost as much as Adam. His hair is dirty blond and his eyes are blue. Just like the rest of the family (except for mom), he has thick eyebrows. He works as an employee in a fancy restaurant. He gets well-paid because many people think he is very charming and funny. ...Which I consider to be an utter fallacy. Gareth is rude and mean, but I still care for him, and I know he cares for me. He lives with us because he is studying to become a surgeon, and he is saving money to buy a house. Right now, he is the one that cleans and cooks while mom isn't around. It's his way of 'paying rent'.

Just so you know, he isn't the only one (of my brothers) that calls me _pixie_ or _fairy_. I think they have all called me "pixie" more times than they've called me "Arthur" or even "Artie". They even dare to call me that when my parents are around, though they aren't as informed as my brothers are about my preferences.

My brothers don't just call me pixie/fairy for no reason. They came up with the nicknames because:

A) Since I was a little kid, I've always had an interest in folklore and magic.

B) I'm gay.

C) I'm the most effeminate-looking boy in this family. My mother actually told us that the first time Adam saw me, he asked if he could help choosing my name. He chose a girl's name. Brittany, I believe. That's really stupid, though, because there is no way anyone can tell the difference between a new-born baby boy or baby girl unless they are butt-naked. They all look like tadpoles to me.

The only reason Peter isn't effeminate (he _is_ a pretty boy, but he isn't as feminine-looking as I was when I was his age) is because he is chubbier than I am and he has the pottiest mouth any 10-year-old kid can have...and he is growing up _really_ fast.

My parents still don't know I like guys. They have a very different idea of me, actually, ever since a girl from my last school accused me of impregnating her, which I had obviously not done. Even though my parents recieved scientific proof that I had done no such thing (they tested the DNA of the baby and mine and saw there were no similarities at all), they still lost a little of their trust in me (especially because I had to tell them that I actually _had_ sex with her). ...They still don't know that she wasn't my first, though.

After finishing my small meal, talking with my brother, and getting changed to my football uniform from last year, I walked back to school, this time alone. What Gareth was saying was true. The coach loved me. The reason she (along with many of the other physical education teachers) loves me is that before I entered school, the team was never able to get to a championship. Besides that, they had a different coach. We both entered the same year, she as the coach and I as a team member. I was one of the few kids in the team who took practice seriously, though by the end of the year everyone was attending practice everyday.

God is she _tough_. Her training is really harsh, but the whole team improved enough to make it almost to the finals. It was a _huge_ improvement, according to the other team members and to the principal.

By the time I had arrived, many of the guys who wanted to be in the football team were already getting ready to go through the tests that the coach had prepared for them. I saw a few familiar faces from last year's team, but I also saw many new people.

The coach was standing there, welcoming parents and talking with some of last year's football players. Her dark brown hair was tied in a pony tail, like usual, and she was wearing the red sweatpants of the school over a white shirt. When she saw me, she walked up to me to greet me with her usual bright smile.

"Arthur Kirkland." She shook my hand with force, like she always did. "I'm glad to see you're in the tryouts again."

"Nice to see you stayed to coach us this year too." I answered with a smile. I really liked this woman, she was very fierce and intelligent.

"Oh, well. They increased my paycheck." She shrugged an laughed. Then she turned to see the football field. "It's quite a surprise, you know? There are several new kids who want to be in the team this year."

It was true. I could count at least ten more kids than last year. It was probably because our team had become way better than last year now. Perhaps football was slowly becoming more popular in the school. It was still no match for basketball, though. It didn't matter how well we played, the basketball team always got most of the attention from the school and the students.

"Where are your parents?" She looked around, very confused. "I thought they would come to the tryouts like last year."

I laughed. "Oh, no. I'm afraid they have other things to do right now."

I knew that the real reason she wanted my parents to come was because she liked them more than many of the other parents. My parents also liked my coach, they got along pretty well, actually. I think it's because my parents never told her how to do her job, unlike many of the other kids' did last year.

Another kid arrived, she went to greet him too. The coach is like that. She tries to be close with us.

After a few minutes of warming up and stretching a little, I heard the coach blow on her whistle. "Alright, all of you! Let's start the tryouts!" She clapped her hands several times, trying to get the attention of the rest of the teens around me. She succeeded, of course.

Tryouts began. We were asked to do several different excercises, and at the end she divided us in teams and made us play a friendly match. It was quite simple, actually.

On the way home I thought I'd be alone again, but I wasn't. Francis greeted me a few blocks away from home.

"How were the tryouts, mon cher?" He began to walk beside me.

"Mah, they were alright. There were more people than last year, for sure. I think I did make it to the team." I answered simply. "What are you doing here, Francis?"

"I was just taking a walk around the park when I remembered that you had tryouts today, so I decided to come by and ask how did it go!" He answered with a sway of his hair. "That's what a good friend would do, mon cher!"

I raised my eyebrows at him unamused. "Really, Francis, what are you doing here?"

"Alright, alright." He stopped me and put a hand over my shoulder, pointing at a couple of cute teenagers hanging in front of a convenience store a few blocks away. "See those girls over there? I wanted to ask you if you could convince them that I'm a charming young man that just wants to ask them out on a date. If—"

"—No." I answered immediately. Everytime I was asked to 'convince a couple of chicks that this and that', I eventually ended up being yelled at and slapped.

"Awww...please, mon cher!"

"No, Francis."

"Please! S'il vous plaît! You'd make me a happy man! You'd make—!"

"—Alright, alright! But you owe me one, you wanker!"

Francis grabbed my hand and kissed it repeatedly. "You, sir, are an angel! A divinity! A—!"

"—Quit being so manky!" I jerked my hand away. Though I was wary of doing this, I still made my way up to the girls.

One of them eyed me rudely. "Who are _you_?"

I faked my most smug-british-guy-who-gets-all-the-girls accent. "Why, I'm that young man's friend." I elegantly pointed at Francis, who was waving his hand at them and sending kisses. "He's a tad shy," Shy, right. "but he's a very nice and sweet gentleman. Trust me, I'd know what a gentleman is."

"Oh my gosh, I love your accent, are you English?"

I faked a delightful laughter. "You guessed correctly. I was born and raised in England."

The other girl giggled. "Is your friend English too?"

"No, he isn't English." I answered. They seemed rather let-down, so I had to add something right away to bring their interest back to Francis. "...But he's French, and you know what they say about the French."

"What do they say?" One of them looked at Francis and winked an eye at him.

"Hmm...how should I put this? Le français sont les meilleurs amants." I answered. That's about as much of French that I know. Francis repeats it always. "In other words, French are the best lovers."

One of them smiled shyly. "Is he...is he asking for a date?"

"Have you seen yourselves in a mirror recently? Who wouldn't be interested in going out with such ladies?" _I_ most certainly wouldn't. "My dear friend asked me to point out that you both look stuningly beautiful today."

They giggled and shared a look. Then the other one turned back to see me and grinned. "Alright, tell him he can take us for ice cream."

"I most certainly will." I turned around and began to walk back to Francis.

Wow. I put my effort into convincing these two girls to go out with Francis, I _even_ spoke a little French, and all they can think about is _ice cream_? _That's_ romantic. I mean, seriously, Francis will be _thrilled_. Ha!

"What did they say?" Francis asked, almost as exitedly as a little giggly girl.

"They said you could take them out for...ice cream." I answered, trying to hold back my smile when I saw his exited face diminish.

"Ice cream?" He tilted his head to the side. "I was thinking more about going to a bar or something...but ice cream's fine!"

"Really? You're fine with ice cr—?" Right at that instant, my cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"HEY ARTHUR!" An overly cheery voice greeted me so loudly from the other side of the cell phone that I had to put it a few centimeters away from my ears.

"Don't scream, you prat! You'll leave me deaf!"

"Oh! Sorry!" He lowered his volume. "I was wondering if we could get together for the project today."

I blinked confused. "Get together today? You mean _right now_?"

"Yep!"

What was he thinking? Really, did he actually believe I'd be free right at this instant? What if I was doing something important? ...Well...I didn't really have anywhere to go, anyway... But it was too sudden... "I don't thi—"

Francis snatched the cell phone away from my hands. "Of _course_ he can!"

"What the—? Fra—!" I tried to reach my cell phone, but Francis had his hand over my nose and mouth, keeping me away from it. I could hear a very light voice comming from the cell phone, but I was too far to listen to the exact words Alfred was saying.

"... ...Oh, I'm Francis, Arthur is unable to answer your call right now! ... ...Don't worry, he's alright. He just had the sudden urge to puke, you know how English cuisine works. I told him not to have scones for breakfast, but he wouldn't listen to me, can you believe it? ... ...Alright, I'll tell him that. ... ...Do you have his address? ...Parfait! ... ...Take care, mon amour." And then he hung up the cell phone and let go of me.

I gasped _loudly_ for air once Francis took his hand off my mouth and nose. "Are you _insane_, you bloody imbecile? Were you trying to suffocate me to death?"

Francis just laughed and returned my cell phone to me. "There's your favor, now I owe you nothing, mon cher. By the way, if I were you I'd get to my house as soon as possible and take an immediate bath."

"...Why?" I looked at him suspiciously as I put my cell phone away.

"Because you're covered in sweat and Alfred is gonna show up at your house to pick you up in about," he looked at his watch, "in about half an hour."

...did he just say _pick you up_?

"_WHAT_?" I yelled at him, pulling at my hair and loosing my cool. "Are you trying to kill me, Francis?"

"Stop making a tantrum and go get ready! I doubt you'll want to look so disheveled in front of _Alfred_. Au revoir!" He walked over to the girls who were in front of the convenience store.

_Uh-oh_.

I ran all the way back home, it was just a few blocks away so running there wasn't tiring. When I got there, I pushed the door open and ran to the stairs. I was about to go up when my mother called me with concern.

"Arthur? Are you home? Why the hurry?"

"Yes, I'm home!" I began to make my way upstairs, "I need to take a quick bath!"

"Right _now_?"

"Yes, an acquaintance of mine is gonna come pick me up to do a project for school!"

I don't even know why he couldn't choose a different day, like tomorrow, for instance! Bloody prat!

"...Alright, sweetheart."

I rushed upstairs and into my room, only to find one tougher obstacle laying on top of my bed, checking the pictures in one of my books.

"Peter? What are you doing here? Get out!" I said as I grabbed the set of clothes I would wear.

"No! Your bloody room is bigger than mine! And your bed is more comfortable and fluffy than my stupid rock-hard bed!" He whined loudly. "It's not fair! Let me stay here! You're not using it right now, damn it! Don't be such a bugger!"

See what I mean? He's got a potty mouth.

"It's my room, you have your own room! Get out! And stop cursing!"

Peter frowned at me and crossed his arms determined not to get off my bed. "Nuh-uh!"

Great, I had no time to deal with this. I sighed and ran a tired hand over my hair. "Alright, you can stay, as long as you don't break anything. I'm gonna take a bath."

"Okay!" He grinned and kept eyeing one of my books without reading it, just flipping through the pages.

I entered my bathroom and took my clothes off. I walked into the shower and turned on the water, wincing as the cold liquid touched my skin. I washed my body with soap thoroughly, and was just putting shampoo on my hair when my little brother walked inside the bathroom, flushed the toilet, turned off the lights, and ran out laughing.

"_PETER!_"

Note to self: smother Peter.

After finishing washing the rest of my body and hair, I turned the water off and walked out of the shower, drying myself with the closest towel I could find. Then I turned the lights on and put on boxers and jeans. I walked out of the bathroom half dressed, drying my hair with the towel recklessly. Glancing at the clock, I noticed I still had ten minutes before Alfred came to pick me up, so after putting on a shirt, I walked downstairs to grab a snack to eat.

When I walked to the kitchen, dad greeted me with his usual lazy smile. "Hey kid. How was school today?"

"Ah, it was fine." I answered simply, just like always.

"Why did you rush inside the house? You didn't even come say hello to us."

"Arthur has to do a project with one of his classmates." My mother replied as she cut some vegetables and put them in a bowl. "His classmate's gonna come pick him up. Besides, Arthur just came from his football tryouts, so he needed a bath."

I nodded, grabbing the same box from earlier (the one with the fruits) out of the fridge. "Yes, I certainly did."

Dad laughed and turned to my mother. He smiled at her and reached to grab a knife and a cucumber. "...Do you need help with that, dear?"

"Don't touch the food, Nicky." Mom replied with a smile as she chopped tomatoes.

"Alright, alright." My father laughed and retreated his hands, deciding to scratch the back of his neck instead.

I laughed as well. You can guess where Gareth and I got our _terrible_ cooking skills from. I think that's the closest thing about my dad and I, besides the eyebrows.

My father, Nicholas Kirkland, is really tall (ten centimeters short of being two meters) and very masculine and fierce-looking. Or at least that's what other people think when they glance at him. To tell you the truth, my father is _very_ calm and nice. He barely yells or says any bad words (my mother, on the other hand, is the one with the potty mouth, though she doesn't curse in front of us. ...That much). But he _sucks_ at cooking. Anything he tries to cook ends up getting burned somehow.

Dad works as a professor in a university. He teaches english literature, and he was the reason I learnt to read at an early age. He used to be the one who read stories to me when I was little, but then we had some family troubles (related to my lazy brothers) and he stopped because he was so tired at night he could barely stand up straight.

"So what's your project about?" My father asked, turning back to me again.

"We need to create a blog as if we were Henry VIII, with at least four important points of his life as a king." I answered, eating some of the fruit inside the box.

Dad nodded. "Hmm, then I'm sure you'll have no problems at all, right?"

I snorted. "Oh, pfft. Of course not. I know my history."

In that instant, someone banged on the door rather loudly. My parents both turned to see me with questioning looks.

"Uhh...He's american." I answered as I put the food inside the refrigerator.

"Oh, no wonder." Mom said, continuing her task of chopping vegetables as dad nodded in understandment. Another set of loud knocks on the door made me grumble and frown.

"Sorry mom, I promise I'll help you with dinner tomorrow." I turned to look at my mother before walking out of the kitchen. ...Dinner? Who am I kidding? My cooking sucks so _much_ my mom never asks for my help with dinner. She actually avoids it.

"Oh, no, sweetheart, that's _really_ not necessary. You go have fun doing your project! Don't be late, though! Tomorrow you have school!"

See?

"Alright!" I answered, grabbing my keys and walking out of the house.

First thing I saw when I opened the door was an american with a goofy smile that was _too_ wide. "Hello, Arthur!" Alfred greeted me with as much enthusiasm as always.

I grumbled, closing the door to my house and then turning around to see him. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

"Hmm? Explain what?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Why you needed to do the project _today_." We began to make our way to a bright red car parked in front of my house. "Couldn't you wait until tomorrow?"

"_Oh_." Alfred laughed in a really charming way, flashing a smile towards me.

It wasn't one of his stupid smiles, it was...it was like he was actually smiling in a true way. He...looked nice when he smiled like that. And his laugh...His laugh was so bewitching, I didn't even pay attention to his lousy excuse. What was he saying? Something about food? ...Wait, he's looking at me.

"_Arthur_!"

Damn! He's calling me! I snapped out of my daydream."Uh...I'm sorry, what?"

"Seriously, Arthur," He patted my back with a strong hand in a friendly way, "you need to pay attention to what people say when they're speaking!"

I tried my hardest not to blush. God, was the guy strong. "Umm...sorry, what were you saying, again?"

"I was telling you that if you wanted, we could do the project tomorrow." He replied slowly, as if I was a little kid.

"No, it's fine by me. Let's go do the project right now." Then I frowned at him. "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid."

"Sure thing." Alfred laughed and opened the car's door to let me in.

"Um...thanks." I muttered silently, a very faint pink gracing my cheeks.

By the time we arrived at Alfred's house, I was feeling more relaxed. Now I wasn't blushing at absolutely every cute gesture the teen made. Yes, I just said that he made cute gestures. You can squeal now.

Alfred's house, made of wood, was a little bigger than mine and it was painted white. It had a lovely front garden, with a couple of tall trees growing right in front of the house. When we walked in, Alfred's mother greeted me with as much enthusiasm as his son. I found that to be quite endearing, actually.

Alfred's mother was a very pretty woman with wavy blonde hair falling down her shoulders. Her smile was as bright as Alfred's, and her bright blue eyes were very beautiful. Just like her son, she wore square glasses over her pretty eyes.

"Hello! You must be Alfie's friend!"

Friend? I just met the guy two weeks ago! More importantly, _Alfie_? Well, it's not nearly as bad as _pixie_, but still...I couldn't help but send Alfred an amused look.

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you, madame." I smiled at her. I could see Alfred blushing a little, probably because of the nickname his mother had called him.

Alfred's father was a tall man with broad shoulders and a bit of a beer belly. To tell you the truth, I thought he was scary. He was standing right next to his wife, holding a Budweiser in one of his hands. His dirty-blond hair was very short and he had a goatee. His eyes were blue as well, but he didn't use glasses. I was sort of expecting the guy to demand dinner or something, but he didn't. He actually pulled out a chair (in a very gentleman-like fashion) for his wife to take a sit.

Alfred also had a younger brother who was very shy and always carried a big plushy of a polar bear around. ...I...don't remember his brother's name.

We were on our way to Alfred's room when someone intercepted us.

"Who's here? Alfie? Are you home?" An old woman (also wearing glasses, by the way) walked out of a room. She was probably Alfred's grandmother, judging by the fact that she had just called him _Alfie_. ...hahaha.

"I'm here, grandma!" He said loudly.

"Oh, good, good." She patted his shoulder a few times. Then she turned to see me and squinted her eyes. "Who is this?"

"It's a friend! He's here to do a project!" Alfred answered, loudly again.

"I see." She took my hand and patted it. "Nice to meet you deary, I'm Alfie's grandmother. Oh my goodness, your hands are terribly dry! Alfie, bring your friend some of that moisturizing cream your mother loves so much! Would you like a glass of water, sweetie? Alfie, bring your friend a glass of water also!"

"That won't be necessary, madame." I answered, smiling at her. She looked like a really nice lady. The woman was probably a little deaf, since I had to repeat it in a louder tone until she heard me.

"Nonesense, deary!" She shook her head a few times. "You need to drink lots of water if you want to grow up to be a healthy woman."

...A healthy _what_?

"Uhm..." I turned to Alfred for help, but the git was just holding his stomach with one hand and covering his mouth with the other, trying really hard not to burst into a histerical laugh. "I-I'm not a girl." I mumbled awkwardly.

"Sorry, deary, what did you say?"

Apparently, Alfred had swallowed all his laughter and had decided that his help was necessary. (About freaking time). "Grandma, why don't you take a closer look at him? You'll see he's a boy, not a girl!"

She tilted her head to the side and blinked a few times. "Alfie, I don't need your help identifying gender, thank you very much. I'm old, but I'm not silly."

Alfred chuckled. "No, grandma, _really_! His name is _Arthur_!"

"_Arthur_?" The elderly woman turned to look at me curiously. She squinted her eyes and analyzed my face. "Oh my God, darling..."

Finally, she got it!

"Why would your parents give you a boy's name?"

I think I just felt a bucket of bricks land on my head.

"Uh...madame..." I stuttered, not knowing what to do. Sure, I might look a _little_ effeminate sometimes, but this had _never_ happened to me before!

"—And to such a pretty lady!" The old woman continued speaking. "Your name should be something like...Brittany!"

Brittany? _Again_? Are you serious?

"Hmm...your hair should be a little longer, darling, maybe that's why Alfie thinks you're a boy!" She chuckled. "Really, that kid can be as stubborn as a donkey! I think he actually got that from me, you know?"

No kidding...

The old lady chuckled again, this time smiling brightly to me. "I'm really happy though! He finally did a good job and brought such a beautiful young lady home!"

"But, madame..." I tried to get things straight, but she was an old lady and she seemed so happy thinking that Alfred had brought a girl home...I just couldn't do it.

"Look at your eyes! They are gorgeous! Green, those eyes are so full of expressions and wonders! And you have such an intense look, just like my husband –God rest his soul." She leaned up to whisper something in my ear. "Though you should do something about those eyebrows, sweetheart."

"Uhh...alright..." I smiled at her and nodded my head, just to please her. Alfred, on the other hand, was now _crying_. I swear, he was trying so hard _not_ to laugh he was bloody crying!

"Grandma, we're going upstairs to do homework!" Alfred managed to say, his voice sounded solid. How he did that, I'll never know.

The woman let go of my hand and looked at Alfred suspiciously. "Alright, deary, but remember to respect girls!"

"Don't worry, Arthur and I won't do anything like that!" His voice was just trembling a little, on the border of laughing.

At first I thought of yelling at Alfred for laughing. But in the end, I couldn't do anything. I was too distracted to be angry at Alfred. He had taken my hand and was now pulling me upstairs. His hands were so soft against my skin and his grip was so tender...NO!

Think about something else!

Okay, the recipe for black pudding has oats, onions, a little bit of mint, cooked barley...Oh my, he's skin is so soft...I mean! Milk, salt and pepper...

"Arthur?"

Bread crumbs...

"_Arthur_!"

"And 1 quart pig's blood!"

Alfred was staring at me with a very confused look. "...Pig's _blood_?"

"Uhmm..." I blushed deep red. "...Sorry, what did you say?"

"What do you need pig's blood for?" Alfred asked, letting go of my hand and opening the door to his room.

"I was...umm...thinking about the ingredients for black pudding." I muttered, the heat leaving my face.

Alfred laughed and ruffled my hair. "You should stop doing that while others are talking to you." He smiled brightly. "You know, what grandma was saying is a lie."

No kidding, Sherlock.

"You have very soft hands, I don't think you need any moisturizing cream at all! Though your grip is actually quite strong...maybe you should try relaxing a little." He grinned at me.

He said my hands were...soft...Wait, was I really holding his hand so tightly? I was now officially as red as an apple. Agh! Why do I always end up embarrassing myself in front of this guy?

"Woah, Brittany, calm down! You're getting as red as a firetruck! We don't want your pretty-girl face to get all red, do we?" He laughed.

That. Stupid. Git.

I glared at him. "Shut up, _Alfie_."

He blushed and looked away, scratching his head. "Alright, alright. Let's make a deal, I won't call you Brittany again if you don't call me Alfie again."

"Deal."

The project was almost done, we were missing only one more blog. The phone in Alfred's house rang, so Alfred had to get up from the computer and go answer it. Now I was alone. In his bedroom. His parents were downstairs, talking with Alfred's grandmother about something, and his brother...err...I still can't remember his name...well, he was downstairs watching a documentary about maple syrup.

I was alright by myself, inspecting Alfred's room which was, by the way, _quite_ (I mean extremely) unkempt. His school uniform was thrown in a corner. On top of his bed were a few magazines, and next to them was an empty glass of water. I kept scanning the room carefully. Seriously, this guy had no idea of what the word _clean_ meant, did he? I mean, there was a shirt on top of something (that...I think moved), pieces of paper thrown in a corner, the school's books right in the middle of the room, a pencil box, and another glass of Holy fuck! Are those _boxers_?

I blushed again, and turned away really quickly.

Then I heard a strange noise coming from the window of Alfred's bedroom. I hate admitting this, but I was too paralyzed to turn around. Was someone trying to enter the house? What if it was a thief? Or worse, what if Heather found out I was in Alfred's home and she was trying to enter so she could do horrible things to me inside a stranger's home?

I heard a loud THUMP, and then someone groaned.

I winced. _EEP_.

* * *

What a stupid cliffhanger, haha.

For Alfred's dad I just described my cousin's husband. He's not scary, he's actually really cool (and he doesn't have a beer belly lol). ...For some reason, I think he looked a little like a friend's father (he _was_ scary alright, but he wasn't a bad man. ...he just looked scary).

**Please** forgive me if it isn't as good as you expected it to be :'(


	3. Kleptomaniac

**Ch. 3 –Kleptomaniac**

Thank you for all the reviews and favorites and subscriptions! You're all awesome people! :)

I've been a occupied with my AP Bio and English Summer Homework (It's a HORRIBLE idea to procrastinate! I spent 2 whole days doing nothing -_absolutely nothing_- but homework! Plus 7 hours each morning since last Saturday!)

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia isn't mine!

* * *

I heard a loud THUMP, and then someone groaned.

I winced. _EEP_.

"Ouch..." The voice wasn't from a girl, it was from a guy. ...but that didn't make it any less scary! Seriously, _who_ would want to break into Alfred's house in the middle of the afternoon! Whoever it was, I could feel his eyes on my back. "A-A-A-Alfred! What a surprise! I didn't think you...! ...Wait a minute..._you're_ not Alfred."

I turned around slowly to find a boy about our age sitting there, right below Alfred's window. The boy's skin was tanned, and his wavy hair was dark brown. His eyes were intense forest green, bordering on olive. His clothes were loose, though they weren't baggy, and they were made of something that seemed to be really fresh and comfortable. In his feet he was wearing a pair of sandals, and he carried a pouch with very intense designs colored in bright orange, golden yellow, hot pink, forest green, and strawberry red. It looked as if someone who was in LSD had made it.

"Uh...no...I'm Alfred's acquaintance." I answered, getting up from my chair.

"...Oh, alright...What's your name? You're not from the USA, right?" He smiled brightly and walked up to me.

"...My name is Arthur Kirkland, and no, I'm not from the United States. I'm from England." I held out my hand to greet the boy, who instead of taking it just hit it (as if he were giving me a high 5) and then punched it lightly with his fist. "...huh?" I stared at him confused.

He laughed . "Sorry, sometimes I forget that you people don't say hello like we do! I'm Andy. Nice to meet you, man." When he stood up next to me, I was able to see that the boy was shorter than me.

I already liked this kid.

"Just Andy?" I asked.

Again, the boy laughed. "Well, my whole name is Andrés Cuauhtémoc Guerrero Salas, but I'm guessing it will be hard for you to pronounce it."

"Andres Cu—_what_?" I managed to say the first word complete, hooray for me! "Where are you from?"

Andy suddenly turned serious and made proud gestures with his hands as if he were saying a poem with lots of emotion: "I'm from the land where the ladies and the gentlemen dance around to the rhythm of the mariachi! I'm from where singing is the way to overcome depression! I come from the place where hot chocolate sometimes contains chile! From the land where we learn to dance before we learn to walk!" He smiled with a proud expression, "But most important of all, I'm from the land where 5 tacos are only fifty pesos!"

I stared at the guy with raised eyebrows. "...Uh..."

"Mexico, of course!"

And in that instant, Alfred opened the door. "Sorry Arthur, I was –..._Andy_? Awwgh... what the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I jumped the fence and crawled in through the window!" The tanned boy pointed at the open window.

"What? I thought I had locked it yesterday!" Alfred grumbled, walking over to the window and closing it.

"I picked the lock!" Andy grinned.

Alfred stared at Andy in disbelief. "But it's a high-tech window lock especially made to keep burglars out! How on Earth did you manage to open it!"

Andy held up a couple of paper clips. "My cousin Pancho taught me."

Smart little kleptomaniac brat.

Alfred sighed heavily. "Andy, why don't you just knock on the front door and walk inside like normal people do?"

"Eh...? Umm...because I'm scared of your father. He's a cop. Cops are scary." Andy answered, grinning goofily.

"Uh...did I miss something?" I mumbled.

"Oh! I didn't introduce you both!" Alfred scratched the back of his head and laughed. "Sorry!"

"Don't worry, Alfred, we already met each other!" Andy placed a hand around my neck in an overly-friendly way. "Right, amigo?"

"E-e-eh?" I squirmed from under the boy's arm, trying to get out. "W-w-why are you hugging me? I just met you!" For God's sake! 5 minutes in the same room and he was already calling me a _friend_? All I knew about him was that he could pick locks and his cousin's name was Pancho!

"Hmm?" Andy tilted his head to the side, very confused.

Alfred laughed and patted my head. "Don't be afraid, Arthur! Andy is just overly friendly like that!" I grumbled and pushed Arthur's hand off my head.

The mexican boy pointed at me curiously. "Say, Alfred, is this guy bitter or what?"

"I'm not bitter!" I frowned at him. How rude!

"Go home, Andy." Alfred pushed the young kid towards the window.

"Wait, wait! Alfred, I came here for a reason!" Andy turned around. He pushed his hand inside the very colorful pouch he was carrying. "I found the stuff you asked for!" He pulled out a black plastic bag.

...Huh?

Alfred grinned. "Great!" He tried to reach for the bag, but Andy retrieved it.

"No, no. I need the money before I give this to you."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Fine, but let me see the merchandise."

I tried to look over his shoulder, but I couldn't see what that 'mercancy' was. The only thing I could hope was that those weren't drugs, or something similar!

Alfred pulled out some money from his pocket and gave it to Andy. Andy then gave the plastic bag to Alfred and counted the money, nodding with approval.

"If you want more of these, you know who to ask!" And then he opened the window and jumped to the tree outside, crawling down to the floor and running away with surprising ease and familiarity.

"...What was all that about?" I asked. Now I was _really_ lost.

Alfred laughed. "Promise to keep this a secret, alright?" He showed me the black plastic bag.

"...What's in there?" I couldn't help it. My curiosity was simply _too much_. Were those drugs? Or maybe alcohol? Or a fire-arm? Or a limited-edition brand of chocolate that was only produced in Mexico? Or perhaps condoms?

...I don't know why I thought that. Anyway, I turned red. I'm just glad Alfred didn't know the reason.

Alfred opened the bag to reveal...

Three cans of...cat food? Are you _serious_?

"Cat food? That's what you have been so secretive about?" I almost hit his head. I _almost_ did. But I'm a gentleman, and gentlemen don't do that. Especially when the victim is so damn good-looking.

"Shh! Shh!" He looked around furtively. "Follow me."

I followed Alfred downstairs and out to his backyard, which was _enormous_ to say the least. There were a few rosebushes blooming here and there, on top of the bright-green grass, and many trees grew around the garden. A tall fence made of wood separated this mini-forest from the outside.

I wondered if _that_ was the fence that Andy had jumped to get to Alfred's room. ...If that's the case, the kid must be in a really good physical condition.

I kept following Alfred through the garden all the way until we reached the other side. We were in front of the fence.

Then I heard the tiny meow of a kitten. I looked down to see a white ball of fur stretching on top of an improvised bed made with a blue blanket with polar-bear designs. The blanket was probably not Alfred's, but belonged to his brother...err...damn, how queer, I never forget names!

Another tiny meow, and then the next thing I knew, the silly, little thing was pawing at Alfred for food.

"...Your secret is a _cat_?" I slapped myself mentally. That's the most stupid question I've made in a while. Why else would he need the cat food?

Alfred nodded, apparently not thinking anything about the question. "No one knows, not even grandma or Mathew."

"Mathew?" I raised an eyebrow.

"My brother."

..._Oh_.

"Don't tell them, alright?" He opened the can of cat food and put it in front of the kitten, who stumbled towards it in a really cute way. "Hmm...I wonder where his siblings are?" Alfred looked around curiously. "Oh, here they come."

Seconds later, two other kittens stumbled out from under a tree trunk and began eating the cat food mercilessly. I couldn't help but smile...I have a soft spot for cute, cuddly creatures.

"Their mother abandoned them here a while ago. She used to come back every day to feed them. But last week it rained very heavily. I haven't seen her ever since." He scratched the back of his neck. "It can get to be a little troublesome to bring them something to eat, especially when my parents are here, but it's worth the risk."

We went back upstairs to finish the project after spending a while watching the kittens play with each other. (By the way, Alfred's brother was looking for his blanket).

When we were in Alfred's room, we turned the computer back on to keep writing but we didn't really do anything. We were just talking about stuff. I don't even remember what it was, specifically. Something about school.

I liked Alfred's voice. It sounded so friendly and kind when he wasn't yelling.

He laughed and nodded at a random comment I had made. "That's true! He _does_ look a lot like Sylvester Stallone, huh? I wo—"

My vibrating cellphone interrupted his words. "Excuse me, Alfred." I picked it out of my pocket and took a look at the number, which I couldn't recognize. Curiously, I opened my cellphone and pressed it against my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Arthur~!"

That...voice...

"Arthur~? Are you there? Are you ignoring me? Arthur? ...Arthur!"

Bloody hell, it was...

"_Heather_?" I frowned at no one in particular. Great. Now Vlad the Impaler had my cell phone number.

Alfred looked surprised. He mouthed an "It's _Heather_?" at me. I nodded, still frowning. He rolled his eyes, which surprised me a little. Then a mischevious grin formed over his face. "Put it on speakers! I promise I won't laugh or say anything!" He whispered. Without thinking it twice, I put her in the speakers.

"Well, _duh_." She said.

"...How did you get my number?"

Please tell me so I can rip off that person's limbs _slowly_ and _painfully_.

Heather laughed. "Oh, I have my contacts, silly. I'm not gonna tell you who they are, duh~."

Bloody lucky little contacts.

"How may I be of your service, Heather?"

"Well..." She practically _purred_ into the phone. "...there are _many_ things you can help me with, if you know what I mean~..."

God, I don't think she's talking about English or History. "_Right_...Why did you call me?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you knew I was having a party this Friday. You know, my parents aren't gonna be home." I could almost picture her biting her lip. "You could get a little earlier, if you wanted to..."

What the _hell_? Does she ever _stop_ being so bloody _horny_?

"Uhh...Friday? Sorry, I can't go. I've got business to attend to." I wasn't lying (though even if I hadn't been occupied that day, I'd lie). I really had to go somewhere.

"We can go out to the pool, and I'll wear my pink bikini, and you can do—"

"Heather," I interrupted her. "I _can't_ go."

"on my back... Wait, _what_?"

"You heard me." I replied as stoically as I could. "I can't go to your party because I have other business to attend to."

"...Other _business_?" Her voice wasn't so sweet now. "What _business_ could you have that is so much better than me, huh? Do you have the slightest idea of how much effort I'm putting in convincing you to come over? Do you think I throw my body into any random guy all the time?"

As a matter of fact, I do. But I wasn't about to tell her that. "Heather, I really can't go."

"Listen, you stuck-up British-guy!" I scowled at the name she called me. "I don't care if you have a girlfriend or not! _No one_ rejects me! _Ever_! You are going to be mine, wheather you like it or not!"

"Heather–"

"Don't you _Heather_ me! I'm sick of you ignoring me for two whole weeks! I practically threw my body over yours after english class!"

"I—"

"I don't care! You'll be mine, Arthur Kirkland, you'll be mine! I'm not sure if you know this, but my father is a very important man! I'll _know_ the reason you are ignoring me! And I don't care what it is, I'll make sure you and I are together!" And then she hung up the phone.

I stared at it with a frown in my face. What a bloody attitude!

The awkward silence was interrupted by Alfred's whistle. "Seems like you're in one hell of a problem."

"Oh, it's not a problem," I answered as I put the cellphone back in my pocket, "it's just some hormone-crazy girl that thinks she likes me."

"_Thinks_?" Alfred repeated with emphasis. "She's crazy for you, man. I saw you both in English class, actually. You know, when she was doing all that suggestive stuff and...you know." Surprisingly, he wasn't blushing. "You rejected her and she's pissed. If I were you, I'd watch my back."

I just shrugged, not bothered by the threats she had been sending me. "I couldn't care less of _who_ her father is or what she's planning to do to fulfill her desire for intercourse with a _complete_ _stranger_."

Alfred laughed and smiled at me. "Well...maybe...but still, she's the type of girl who won't just back down. You heard her, and she didn't sound like she was joking."

"Oh, pfft." I rolled my eyes. "Why would she want someone like _me_ to go out with her, anyway? I actually plan to do something productive with my life, I'm serious, and I don't fool around with strangers." Well, at least not anymore. "If she thinks she's the 'popular-chick-that-every-guy-wants-to-have-sex-with', isn't she supposed to go out with some gigantic guy who plays American Football or basketball?"

"...Maybe she likes little guys." Alfred joked.

I _wasn't_ amused. "...I'm not little. ...Besides, she'll get bored with a guy like me."

"Why?" Alfred leaned in, resting his head on his hands. "Don't you have any secrets?"

"No, no secrets at all." I answered, already used to lying about it.

"Oh, come on!" Alfred punched my arm lightly. "Everyone has a secret or two!"

_Secrets_? Well...let's see.

When I was in boarding school, in a town two hours away from here, I used to be a juvenile delinquent who would go to random parties and get drunk, steal final exams (and never got busted, just so you know), get in multiple fights multiple times, and who had sex for the first time at age 14. Then I was brought back to this city, where I tried to redeem everything I had done by getting high grades and being an excellent son. Oh, and the fact that only a few people know I'm gay.

"Not me. I'm just plain and boring." I replied, shaking my head.

Alfred slumped back into his chair, somehow disappointed. He had a look of suspicion and doubt painted in his whole face. "I still don't believe you...There has to be something."

"Well..." I began, watching as his eyes began to shine with curiosity. "...I don't think many people know that I enjoy reading poems before I go to sleep."

Alfred sighed and rolled his eyes, making me laugh.

By the time we decided to actually get working, it was already getting late. Because of this, Alfred decided that he'd do the last blog by himself. Of course I protested, but he just ignored me and said some crap about him being a hero and whatnot. In the end, I couldn't fight against his smile (though I didn't tell him that, of course), so I decided to just let him be.

He took me back home and we said goodbye to each other. He waited until I was inside the house to leave, like a true gentleman.

...Oh my God, I sound like a chick!

Once I was inside, I was greeted by a _very_ (_very)_ annoying grin from Gareth.

"How was your date, pixie?" Gareth followed me upstairs. "Had any action tonight?"

"More than you've had in the last _months_." I replied with a smart-ass grin.

His smile immediately got replaced with a scowl and he rolled his eyes at me. "Tch. Remind me why I bother making breakfast for you every morning."

"Remind me why I bother to eat whatever it is that you call breakfast." I answered and his scowl deepened. Haha! Victory again! Arthur 2, Gareth 0.

"Because what I cook is revolutionary food, and in reality you love it so much that you can't say 'no' to it." He crossed his arms and smiled proudly at himself. "...Anyway, pixie, you never told me anything about your date."

"It wasn't a _date_, idiot." I huffed in a somewhat childish way. "We were working on a project." I'm usually very patient, but Gareth (and Peter) had the ability to make me want to strangle him.

"Uh-huh... And that's the reason you look so red, hmm?" Gareth trailed off, rolling his eyes. "Please. That guy certainly seemed interested in you, I mean, I saw him open the car's door for you...and he also waited until you were inside the house before he left." Now he had a stupid grin on his face. "Hey! You _really_ are blushing! Did something actually happen? Are you hiding stuff from me, fairy?"

"I'm _not_ blushing." I spat back, crossing my arms and frowning. "Alfred was just being nice, that's it. Besides, you must have me in a terrible regard if you think I did something with him when it's the first time I go to his house."

"Aww, come on, Arthur. Do you think I'm stupid? Everyone knows gays are the ones who get the most sex."

I'm not going to lie to you, now I was pissed. If he dared to say anything like that again, I...

"_Shut_ the _hell_ up!" I growled at him. His stupid grin made me roll my eyes, though I still felt the skin of my cheeks become red. ...but I think it was because I was angry now. "Quit being so stupid and get out of my room, Gareth. Jesus, why does everyone want to be in here?"

"Arthur!" My dad called from the kitchen. "Arthur, come get something to eat!"

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I answered from my room.

"I bet that's what you told your friend, hmm?" Gareth chuckled stupidly.

I punched his face for being an ass.

Gareth moaned loudly and held his nose with his hands. "Hey, what the _hell_!"

"Shut up, Gareth!" I snapped at him. "I'm telling you nothing happened, so be quiet and go away!"

"What an attitude, geez." He mumbled, and eventually _did_ leave.

I sighed heavily and sat down in my bed, taking my shoes off and putting them in their own spot (because, unlike Alfred, I like living the way civilized people live, thank you very much).

I wasn't bothered about him telling my parents that I punched him. But...I hated reacting in a violent way. I hadn't punched someone since last year.

"Arthur!" My dad called again.

"Yeah!" I got up and walked downstairs. My father was sitting in the kitchen alone, getting out a dish and placing it on top of the table for me.

"You don't need to do this, you know? I can get my own food." I said, not in a rude way, but just so I wouldn't be a bother to him. I sat down in front of the dish.

Dad laughed and grabbed something (that I hope he didn't cook) and put it on top of my plate. Fish, some artichokes, and potatoes too. "Don't worry, boy. I'm your father, I'm supposed to be doing things like these for you. All your brothers are already independent from your mother and I. You and Peter are the only ones left for us to look after, and you're both growing up really fast."

I smiled at him. I knew my parents cared a lot for me, and I knew they were sorry that they weren't there when I was younger. That's why Peter was getting more attention and less baby-sitting time, except for this Friday, of course.

"Oh, dad, I asked Berwald to come look after Peter this Friday, by the way."

"Berwald Oxenstierna? The son of the doctor, right?"

I nodded. Berwald's father and my father know each other since they were in junior high. They used to attend the same high school, though they went to different universities . Later on, they worked together once because Oxenstierna needed my dad's help for something.

He raised a suspicious eyebrow. "...I'm surprised Peter isn't afraid of him. He's almost as tall as me, though he's just 17. I remember his father was as tall as the kid is right now, and he spoke so little. He was scary, but he was really nice."

"Just like Berwald." I smiled knowingly.

Dad laughed. "I guess. Anyway," he turned more serious, "where are you going this Friday, Arthur?"

"Some guys hired us for a party." I answered with a light shrug as I took a bite from my food. "Don't worry about anything dad, they are way younger than me. I'm already 16, I'm not interested in 14-year-old girls." Or girls of any age, actually.

My father sighed and scratched his neck. "Don't worry, son. I don't mind where you go as long as you take care of yourself. ...Don't be home very late, though. Your mother and I will only be at the dinner for a few hours."

"Okay." I nodded.

Peter needed someone to babysit him this Friday because no one was going to be home. Except for him, obviously. My brother, Collin, was going to work his first full night at the pub that would be his one day (after he graduated from University). Gareth was going to go to his girlfriend's house for the weekend (you can imagine what they were gonna do after being in a long-distance relationship for months). And mom and dad had a fancy dinner with some of the other professors from the University in which dad worked.

You might be asking yourselves this: _What about Arthur? What is he going to do this Friday?_

Well, I'm gonna go do the one thing I've never been able to leave (and I know I'll never be able to leave). I'll go play a few songs with my band in a party.

It's the only thing I couldn't drop after I decided to leave my past-self behind. The band members are friends of mine, I couldn't just leave them out of my life and ignore them. Besides, I love music, especially rock and punk, and I'm very proud that England's bands are known to be some of the most influential bands for today's musicians. My brother, Adam, was the one who taught me how to play an instrument. I think that's the only thing I do well (perhaps besides playing football, but I still think I'm better at playing the guitar). Let's see...how can I put this...? I'm as good with the guitar as much as I suck at cooking. Exactly.

After spending some time with my father and finishing my dinner, I went upstairs to my room. As I said, I love music, so you can imagine that the walls in my bedroom were covered in posters of many different bands. Most of them were English, but I did have some posters of American bands, but those weren't as many.

It wasn't that late, just about 9 at night, but I was still a little tired. I used the last of my energy to read one of Shakespeare's sonnets, and then I drifted into slumber.

The last thing my mind could process before I went to sleep were thoughts of a certain American's smile.

* * *

Omg such a short chapter! Sorry!

Awww...Arthur is sooo in love with Alfred! :D

Please review and I'll try to convince Arthur and Alfred to turn "Hamlet" into a comedy that involves Francis. Dressed as a cat. With leather boots.

Thank you~!

P.D. -I'll try to update regularly, but school is starting soon! So maybe (_maybe_) I'll update one or two days later (I doubt it, though).


	4. Secret

**I'M SO SO SO SOOORRRYYYY!**

First two weeks of school, I've had 3 exams, 2 quizzes, and I'm having another exam next Tuesday! I'm so sorry I didn't update earlier!

(The good news is that I got a really (_really_) hot trigonometry teacher this year! And he's such a sweet person too! He makes math enjoyable even if it's my homeroom! 8D)

Hmm...**Do you want Andy back?** I'm thinking about including him in a future chapter, but I'm not so sure.

**Ch. 4 –Secret**

Here is Ch. 4, please (try to) enjoy it!

I own_ nothing_.

Slapper- skank

Smashing- awesome

* * *

The week went by in what seemed like a whole year. Maybe it was because of the soccer practices, which were as tough as I had expected them to be. They were surely tiring, alright. The first few days my muscles ached, but I was fine after my body got used to the practices again.

All the students and teachers had gotten off their "summer vibes" and were beginning to enter the "work phase" of the year, so the homework was beginning to become a bit abundant.

Aah...Friday finally came by. It was a beautiful day, I must say.

I woke up early in the morning, took a shower, dressed with the typical school uniform (which consisted of a white button shirt, a black tie, and gray pants. I know, the designer had no imagination.) and went downstairs to have breakfast. I was expecting some of Gareth's attempt-at-cooking for breakfast, but instead my mother greeted me with scones and English breakfast tea.

Mom was usually out at this time, taking Peter to school and getting some of the things at the shop ready. Today she had asked dad to take him instead, which gave her extra-time to spend with us in the morning.

Gareth and Collin came downstairs to have eat as well and we talked for a while. Then I had to leave for school, so I took my house keys, my books, my leather school bag and then left.

I met up with Francis on the way to school. Or more like he caught up with me. He began to talk about his (third) date with the two girls I helped him get. Guess what? The only thing they had been doing on their dates with Francis was eating ice cream. ...Sure, going out for ice cream _once_ is nice and all, but _three_ times in a _week_? Jesus. Though I must say that Francis still sounded pretty excited.

Anyway, on our first period the English teacher announced we would start a unit on Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. Many of my male classmates groaned and few of my female classmates were exited. Overall, most of them, boys and girls, seemed to not care at all, like always (which was fine with me, let those ignorants live in bliss).

Then, during History class, our teacher gave us a pop quiz, which I obviously passed with ease.

After that, we had our ten-minute break, which I spent talking to Kiku, the Japanese student that was in a different classroom. He was really nice and calm, unlike most of the people that sat on my lunch table.

The ten-minute break went by quickly and I rushed to my third period: Biology. The teacher made us read one of the chapters in the book, answer a few questions, and then look for the vocabulary. It was easy and quite boring.

After Biology, I had Computer skills, which was basically programming. I _really_ hate that class, it's _boring_ and troublesome. Luckily, today's program was easy and I was able to finish it in one class.

Then it was time for our fifth period, which was Physical Education.

This one...did not go very well.

The class had been normal until the teacher asked us to pick a partner. He didn't allow same-sex pairs since we usually left the girls out and ignored them (well, most of them did nothing during the whole period, so...). The teacher wanted us all to participate in the activity.

I was about to ask Elizaveta, but I suddenly felt someone pull on my arm (with mighty strength, by the way). When I turned around I saw Heather clinging to my arm, pressing her body in a suggestive way against it.

"Arthur~!" She called in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. "You're _my_ partner!"

"Heather, I'm sorry, I—"

"Tino and Elizaveta are together, _right_?" She turned to see them.

Both shared a confused look and were about to say something, but the P.E. teacher interrupted us with his whistle. "Alright, kids! We're doing basketball this month, so get over here and take a ball!"

Heather pulled on my arm. "Come on, Arthur!"

I groaned and pulled my arm away. "Please don't grab my arm, Heather."

Apparently, she wasn't listening, because now she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the basketballs. I _really_ am not comfortable with random people touching me without my permission. _Really_. Especially when it's _Heather_.

It didn't matter anymore. The P.E. teacher was already yelling instructions at us. So I spent a while practicing basketball with Heather. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be, actually. The _awkward_ stuff happened when the teacher divided us in three teams (of course Heather was in my team). We played against Elizaveta's team and lost once they scored a point (of course we lost! That team had Elizaveta _and_ Tino! Even if the guy is small and sort of cute, he is _strong_!)

As Alfred's team made it's way to the court, I took a seat and cleaned the sweat off my face with my hand. Heather sat down next to me, obviously I didn't even turn to see her.

"So..." She began, "you're coming to my house after all, right?"

I sighed heavily and _now_ looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You already know the answer: I _can't_. I'm _busy_."

"Oh, please, Arthur." She said, laughing loudly. "Seriously, what is better than being invited by the hottest girl at school to a party?"

"It doesn't matter." I answered, not amused at all. "I already have plans and I am not going to change them just because you ask me to."

Her expression twisted into a scowl. "I've been giving you chances to accept my invitation through the whole week! Who do you think you are, anyway? I mean, what could be better than my party? Where are you going?"

"I'm afraid that's none of your business." I answered in the most polite voice I could manage.

Her scowl deepened. "Oh, I'll find out, Arthur Kirkland. I'll find out."

"It doesn't bother me." I replied with a light shrug. "It's not a secret." ...Well, in reality it _was_ sort of a secret. Not many people (...only Francis...) knew what my exact plans for tonight were.

"Then tell me!"

"No."

"Arthur, _tell me_! You said it's not a secret."

"It's not."

"So?"

The teacher blew on his whistle loudly, making us both turn to see him. "Oh," I got up from my seat, "looks like Alfred's team already lost. It's our turn now."

She huffed and we followed the rest of the team to the court. Heather remained pissed at me for the rest of the period. (I don't know if it was by accident, but she hit me really roughly with the ball on...well...I'll let you imagine _where_. It _hurt_.)

Then (finally) the bell rang and we had lunch. I dressed back to my original school clothes and Tino and Elizaveta accompanied me into the cafeteria.

We sat down on our usual table. Elizaveta and Tino began to eat, while I pulled out a book and continued my reading. Soon, Ludwig (who was always early) arrived, accompanied by Feliciano, of course.

Ludwig kept sending awkward glances at me, as if he knew something I didn't. I managed to ignore them for a while, but it was getting annoying. Finally, I lifted my head from the book I was reading (_Four Steps to Death_, by John Wilson) and confronted him.

"...Seriously, Ludwig, stop staring at me like that. You make me feel as if I was a homeless orphan with those sorry eyes of yours."

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, fixing his stare at the table. "...Sorry about that, Arthur."

"Ludwig's just worried about you!" Feliciano yelled with his usual smile. He licked a bit of tomato from the corners of his lips.

"_Feliciano_" Ludwig said in a rough tone, which made the Italian whimper and look down at his plate of pasta.

I blinked confused. What did he mean by worried?

"Eh? ...Worried?" Elizaveta tilted her head to the side.

"It's...it's probably nothing." Ludwig answered quickly. "Anyway, just forget it."

Francis then sat down and began to flirt with a couple of girls that were sitting a few tables away. Lovino arrived minutes later screaming senseless insults at Ludwig, like always. Antonio was following after him with an awkward smile on his face, trying to calm the angry Italian down. Roderich appeared after them, sitting down next to Elizaveta with a kind smile and 'discreetely' taking her hand under the table (as if I didn't notice both of their fiery blushes). Then Yao and Kiku showed up, followed by Berwald. The table became chatty and loud, mostly because of Lovino's insults and Antonio's attempts at stopping him from attacking Ludwig.

I was, in the meantime, trying to ignore them. But I coudn't get past the first few paragraphs of the chapter I was reading. ...Ignoring an angry Italian can become very difficult when he's yelling "Potato bastard!" and "Macho potato!" at the top of his lungs. ...and threatening to throw a tomato at Ludwig.

"Hey Arthur~." Someone breathed into my neck from behind me.

"Eek!" I shrieked and dropped my book to the floor in surprise. ...Of course it was very manly.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sorry!" I recognized Alfred's trademark laugh instantly. He picked up the book and placed it on my hands as he took a sit next to me.

I could feel a shy blush on my cheeks when I realized that his mouth had been close enough for me to feel his breath and..._wow_. "_Alfred_." I grumbled lowly, trying to act angry instead of nervous.

He laughed again and took my book away from my hands. "_Four Steps to Death_?" He read the title out loud. "What is it about?"

"About the battle of Stalingrad." I answered, retreating it back slowly. "What do you need, Alfred?" The redness of my cheeks was beginning to gradually disappear by now.

He smiled at me brightly. "Why, I was worried about you, Arthur!"

Wait...did he just say _worried_?

Forget about the whole evanescent blush. It wasn't disappearing anymore. After my mind got lost around the thought of Alfred worrying about me, I remembered that Feliciano said that Ludwig was worried as well.

Even though I was a little flustered, I still managed to frown at him. "W-why?"

"Why? Didn't Ludwig tell you? We heard Heather saying strange stuff about you." He answered as if it were obvious. "She's scary, man."

"Wha-wha-what type of strange stuff?" Now I wasn't blushing, I was shocked. What could that reincarnation of Vlad the Impaler be saying about me?

"She's spreading a rumour about you wanting to go out with her."

Well, that's not as bad. It can be cleaned with a little 'was she drunk when she told you this?'

He closed his eyes and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "She said you were trying to seduce her, actually."

"WHAT?" I spat furious. Now my whole group of friends was staring at me as if I had turned into a Cthulu-like creature.

"Uh...Arthur?" Alfred tilted his head to the side cutely –I mean, damn it!

"What exactly did she say?" I whispered harshly after everyone had returned to their businesses.

"What I just told you." Alfred leaned in so close that I could feel his breath on my skin. I felt a few goosebumps travelling up my back. "She said that yesterday after school you cornered her up, put your hand on her leg, and began trailing up until—"

THAT. BLOODY. SLAPPER.

I gritted my teeth. I wasn't going to lose my cool, not now. I had worked very hard to become patient and leave behind my other self. "Who did she tell this to?"

"Just a couple of girls. I overheard her say it." Alfred answered in a calm voice. "...Don't worry, Arthur, I'm sure no one would believe you'd do that."

I sighed, exasperated. Why did she do this? Just to get away with what she wanted? This was ridiculous! Who was going to believe a guy over a girl? "Yeah? Give me an example. And don't include either Elizaveta, Tino, Francis, or anyone else that usually sits in this table."

"Well...I certainly don't!" He winked an eye at me and smiled truthfully.

My heart skipped a beat. My head began to spin. My insides turned and tossed. My face began to heat-up again. Immediately, I turned around, acting like I was looking for something in my bag. "Uhh...thank you." A part of me wanted to say that it meant a lot, but I kept my mouth shut.

Alfred grinned and laughed. "Don't worry, I'd always believe more in you than in her!" He placed an arm over my shoulder and patted me a few times.

...Stupid American.

Finally, school ended. I made my way home, ate a little something, got changed into my football uniform, and then went back to school for practice.

Practice was as harsh as I was expecting. The coach assigned positions for the next game, which would be next Friday. Friendly game just to get us warmed up for bigger and more important games, of course.

I was assigned striker. Last year, I had been in that position at the beginning as well, but then the coach moved us around a bit and I played as winger. However, for most of the games, I played in the center halfback position.

After the practice was over, Ludwig (who was in the football team as well) jogged towards me. He looked a little ashamed, and once he was in front of me he began his nervous tick of scratching the back of his head.

"Uh...Arthur..."

"Don't worry, Ludwig. Alfred already told me about Heather and what she said." I tried to smile at him, but I think I failed. I didn't know if he believed me or if he believed her, and that made me feel a little uncomfortable.

Ludwig shook his head and straightened himself up. "No, I...I should have told you about it as soon as I heard. I'm..." He looked away and blinked a few times. "...I'm sorry. I want you to know that we will always believe in you more than in her."

I stared at Ludwig for a while. He seldom said he was sorry (mostly because he barely committed any mistakes), and this was the first time that I heard him say something so...friendly toward me. "No, don't worry about it!" I managed to say in a way that sounded strange, though I could feel a little warmer inside.

I think I saw Ludwig smile lightly, but just for a fraction of a second. "So you think you'll be fine? She sounded...well..._very_ angry. And those things she said about you cornering her up and...you know..."

"Oh, I'm not bothered at all." I was such a liar. I was bothered, obviously. One of my eyebrows even began to tick when I remember what she had said.

...Bloody slapper.

He was about to continue speaking, but Feliciano (_also_ in the football team) suddenly ran to him and hugged one of his arms with strength. "Ludwig! Ludwig! Lovino said that you have a horrible disease and you're gonna die and leave me alone! Is this true?"

Ludwig sighed heavily, but did nothing to remove the frightened Italian form his arm. "...No, Feliciano, I don't have any disease and I'm not going to die anytime soon."

Feliciano's face lit up like it was covered in glitter. "So you won't leave me alone?"

Now Ludwig was blushing and scratching the back of his head. Nervous, huh? I wonder _why_ that is? "No, Feliciano. Of course not."

"Yahoo!" Feliciano leaned to rest his head on Ludwig's arm. I _swear_ I saw Ludwig sweat and pull on his collar nervously. But he still didn't dare to remove Feliciano.

"Uhh...Well...I'll be going...now." I mumbled, beginning to feel like a third wheel between them. "Thanks for everything, Ludwig. And don't worry about me, or Heather, or whatever."

I left them both to have fun with each other and made my way home. When I arrived, Gareth gave me some of his strange food to eat. It smelled like burnt bread with sausage. ...Of course, I ate it. The reason why I did such a ridiculous thing is one I'll never know.

Anyway, after eating whatever-it-was-that-he-cooked, I went upstairs and took a shower. I grabbed my guitar and practiced for a while.

It was about nine or nine thirty when someone knocked on my door.

"Come in!" I said from the other side of the room.

Mom opened the door. She was wearing a very pretty aquamarine dress and was currently placing one of her silver earings on her left ear. "Sweetie, your dad and I are leaving in a few minutes. We'll be home in a few hours; at what time do you think you'll be back from your concert?"

"Oh, not too late." I answered trully. I wasn't planning on spending much time there, afterall. I was just gonna go to the party, play a few songs, and then come home. I smiled at my mother. "Don't worry about me, I promise I won't do anything bad. Go dance and have fun."

Mom laughed. "Oh, I'm not worried about you, son. I trust you won't be doing anything dangerous, right?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect." She grinned. "Now, what do you think of this dress?"

"Mom, you look amazing." I answered truthfully.

Not that I like to brag, but my mother, Gwendolyn, is really beautiful. It's almost impossible to believe that my two oldest brothers are product of her. She has very fine and feminine features, long, wavy, brown hair, bright green eyes and the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. Even though she's 49, mom still looks like she is in her late 30's.

Many people say that out of all of my siblings, Peter and I are the ones that look the most like her. But people still say that, between Peter and I, I'm the one that looks like her more. ...I don't know if that's a good thing. I also get my height from her, since she is about a meter and 75 cm tall. I'm just a mere 1.70.

Mom is...well...you'd expect her to be a really sweet woman who bakes cakes and cooks for her family. God, are you _wrong_. Though my mom is usually a charming and outgoing lady, she can get to be very scary. And when she gets angry, she gets _angry_. Though it doesn't happen regularly.

I remember that once, when I was younger, my father's brother arrived home drunk. He almost drops Peter, who was just a baby, down the stairs. My mother was _so_ pissed off...well, she was _furious_! She dragged my uncle out of the room (of course Peter was now safe and warm in his craddle) by the shirt (mom's incredibly strong) and began an argument out in the streets. I don't know what he said to my mother, but it made her angrier, and she slapped him so hard he got a bruise.

Then my father arrived and he tried to calm her down (which resulted in him getting a bruise by accident) so she wouldn't kill my uncle. When mom was calm and inside the house, my father took my uncle away. We never saw my uncle come home again, and even now he still has a scar because of what my mother did to him.

Mom is the owner of a perfume shop. I actually met Francis because his mother goes to buy a new (and usually expensive) perfume every week. Mom's perfume shop is quite famous around the city. Someone even offered her the chance to get more and more shops like hers around the state, but she declined it.

A few minutes after mom and dad left, Berwald arrived to take care of Peter. I _really_ felt like I should give him some extra-payment for what he was doing, so I figured I'd slip some extra-money into his coat when he wasn't looking. And I did. And it worked, because he didn't seem to notice.

As soon as I checked everything was okay at home, I got changed to concert-clothes (which consisted of a loose, white, sleveless shirt with some random design, and jeans. Pretty simple, but still good enough.), grabbed my guitar, and left.

I drove the black car through the streets until I reached a small convenience store. Getting out of the car, I dialed a number in my cellphone. I waited for it to ring for about three times and then cancelled the call. Now I just had to wait.

It wasn't long before a teenager wearing a shimmering, green tank top, a black miniskirt, and black boots showed up a block away, carrying a bass with her.

"Hey Lexy." I greeted her once she was close enough and opened the car door for her to get in.

"What's up?" She handed me her bass and then stepped inside the car. I put the bass on the backseat. "Sorry I took so long, I couldn't get my little sister to cover up for me. I had to promise I'd buy her some clothes for her dolls tomorrow."

I laughed as I got inside the car and turned on the engine. "Next time think twice before showing up drunk from a party."

Lexy smirked as we drove away from the convenience store. "Sure was fun, though." She put on her seat belt and smiled at me. "Hey, I like your clothes! You finally decided to show your tattoo to the world, huh?"

Oh yes. You heard correctly. She said _tattoo_. Permanent one, by the way. It's not _big_, though. It's tiny, actually. Just a few inches wide and tall.

At first, when I wanted to leave my delinquent self behind, I used to think that it was the most stupid thing I'd done in my entire life, even if it was a tiny tattoo. I thought I was going to regret it for the rest of my years. It was a terrible decision I made when I was younger, but I've learnt to deal with it and accept it. Hell, I already got it done, I might as well enjoy it.

Anyway, you might be wondering who this strange girl was and why was she seating in my car. Her name was Alexandra Elyse Wolf, A.K.A. Lexy Wolf. Her long, red hair with blonde highlights shone wih health. Her forest-green eyes were intense, like always. And her sweet voice was like heaven for anyone into girls.

We met once at a party, though we didn't talk much. The second time we met was when we both had to wait for our parents to come pick us up from a police station after we were caught (separately) doing some illegal stuff. We became friends there. She was the type of girl that would get in a fight with anyone if they did anything bad to her. And damn was she _strong_. I once saw her knock a guy out for trying to touch her breasts.

Lexy had a powerful voice and her bass skills were awesome. We sang duets together, and depending on the song she or I may be the one singing.

We talked while we made our way to the party. It was almost ten p.m. by the time we arrived at the party. We pulled our stuff out of the car and headed inside the enormous house.

Lexy was _staring_ at the inside of the house with both eyebrows raised. "...What's up with this all this shit? Wasn't this supposed to be an eighth grader's party?"

"Well...that's what the girl's mom said." I mumbled as we began to make our way through the house.

The girl who was having the party was supposed to be turning _14_. Her mother, who hired us, said it was her 14th birthday party, so I imagined the whole house would be up to the brim with random eight graders running up and down the stairs or something. I _was_ expecting to see a few older boys and girls, but this was _ridiculous_! There were hardly any 14 year-old kids there! I actually saw a few guys my age smoking at the corner of the room! Some that were a little younger were making-out on random couches and chairs, others were drinking their brains off, and the rest were dancing to the beat of some random music band.

This was..._hardly_ an eighth grader's birthday party.

"Hey! Lexy! Arthur!" Someone called us from a few meters away.

"It's Brandon." Lexy said, picking up her pace through the house.

Brandon Riley, our fantastic drummer. He had pitch-black messy hair, pale green eyes, and olive skin. But most important of all, he was _big_. By big I mean he looked like a gorilla (you pervert). The guy was a monster, I swear. But still, he was an incredibly friendly guy.

He and Lexy had been friends since they were little kids. Unlike Lexy (and the previous me), Brandon had always been a 'good boy'. He never had any problems with his parents about drinking, smoking, or any other type of substance abuse. He never got into any fights and he never had problems with anyone (including the police).

"What's up with this party?" She asked once we were all together.

"Beats me." Brandon answered, scratching the back of his head. "Anyway, guys, let's get everything ready. We're up after the other band finishes playing."

We had to wait a few minutes before the others finished their last song. After they did, the birthday girl, dressed with a pink frilly skirt and a tight blouse, (_and_ who was wearing a _crown_ and was holding a _wand_, for the love of God) stepped up and took the mic.

"Okay, guys and gals!" She yelled in an excited tone while we (who had just stepped up) were setting everything up quickly. "I hope you're all totally enjoying my party! Anyways, up next is another really cool band, they're like, totally awesome!"

_Like totally awesome_? I felt ridiculous and began to wonder why we had accepted to play at this party. ...Oh right, the pay was good.

The crowd cheered loudly once the birthday-girl dismissed herself and skipped away.

When we were all set (which only took a few minutes) Lexy began to speak on her microphone with inspiration (though we all knew she really wanted to get this done).

"What's up, people? Ready to hear some good music?" She spoke with an intense voice. The crowd cheered. Some guys whistled at her and yelled random disrespectful comments related to her breasts. Lexy ignored them. "Then let's get ready to rock!"

We played a few covers of the Rolling Stones, The Clash, the Sex Pistols, and even some of Queen. We were done about an hour and a half later, and the DJ began to put music for everyone to dance.

The three of us were planning on leaving, but the birthday girl asked (she pretty much pleaded) us to stay for a while, just to make her party look 'cool'. I suppose that could be a compliment, but still...

Anyway, we accepted just because she was insisting a lot. So we took our instruments to the car (except for Brandon, obviously, but those weren't his drums anyway) and returned to the party.

While we were standing there, just hanging around, a few young men tried flirting with Lexy but she was _ice cold_ towards them. She's _horrible_ with most guys.

She told the first one that she would neuter him if he kept bothering her.

Lexy convinced the second one that she had acquired some sort of sexually transmitted disease after her trip to Tijuana.

When a third guy arrived, he began to say that Lexy was an angel and as beautiful as a super model, along with a bunch of other crap. To lure him away, she managed to convince him that she had a girlfriend. This didn't seem to bother him, so she added that she had twin babies with an alcoholic father. At the mention of twins, the guy scurried away.

She's the devil when it comes to dealing with guys.

Finally, we got tired of standing there doing nothing, so we turned our attention at the bar. Since we were going to stay there for a while, we figured we might as well try to enjoy it. We grabbed a drink and sat down on a group of leather couches that were separated from the rest of the crowd.

I was enjoying my third glass of wine when I saw blonde hair, glasses, and blue eyes staring at me. I froze. I rubbed my eyes and blinked a few times to make sure I was looking at _Alfred_, but when I focused again, the person had disappeared.

I stopped drinking after that. I was supposed to drive a car, anyway. I wouldn't be able to drive if I was drunk enough to imagine Alfred as at the party. That was probably God telling me to quit drinking.

So I stopped.

Once we got tired of just doing nothing, we left the party. I had no difficulty driving or anything because I wasn't drunk. Once we were in front of the convenience store close to Lexy's house she stepped out of the car and we dismissed each other.

After a while, I called her cellphone to make sure she was inside her home, safe and faking to be asleep. After doing that, I left to return home.

It took me a few minutes to get there, almost no one was out in the streets.

When I got home I parked the car inside the garage. After that, I took out my guitar and carried it inside the house with me. It was almost one in the morning when I opened the door. The first thing I saw was that the house was mostly dark, except for a small light coming from the living room.

To my surprise, Berwald was downstairs (in the living room), reading a book with a red cover and Swedish words in shiny, gold, cursive, letters. He was sitting right next to a lamp, the only source of light inside the house.

"Hey, Berwald." I greeted him with a smile. "Did my brother cause any problems?"

He stopped reading and turned to see me. "No, he w's v'ry w'll-b'hav'd."

"Peter? Well-behaved?" I chuckled and made my way closer to him. "That's new. He's usually a monster"

Berwald tried to smile, but...well, I think he noticed that it was creepy, so he quit his failed attempt.

I looked around, expecting to see Peter watching T.V. or asking Berwald random questions about Sweden, but he wasn't there. "Where's Peter, by the way?"

The house...was so..._quiet_.

"H's asl'ep." Berwald answered as he put the small book into one of his pockets.

"He's already sleeping?" I whispered harshly. "How did you manage to do that?"

"I j'st...told h'm to go to sl'ep." He answered as if it were very obvious.

"He...he didn't complain or anything?"

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "...No."

"Wow, Berwald, you have a gift with kids!" My mouth was hanging open. When I had to babysit him, Peter usually made a tantrum before going to sleep! He would flail his arms around and groan and call me names. Then I'd have to call mom and she'd have to tell him 'Peter, listen to your brother, it's late at night and you have to go to sleep'.

_Then_ he'd go to sleep.

Berwald covered a yawn with his hands. I could see he was tired. I mean, who wouldn't be? Peter is a monster that drains the energy out of anyone who looks after him.

"Alright, so I'll see you next Monday at school?" I accompanied him to the door.

Berwald nodded. "Y's. If you n'ed m're h'lp w'th P'ter you c'n alw'ys 'sk."

I laughed and patted Berwald's back in a friendly way. "Alright. The kid loves you, he speaks wonders of you, Berwald."

He attempted a smile again. ...And again failed.

After Berwald left, I went upstairs to my bedroom to get changed into more comfortable clothes. I washed my teeth and pulled out a book, but then I remembered that I had left my guitar downstairs.

I walked silently towards the living room and grabbed my guitar. Then I noticed something on the table were Berwald had been reading. I walked closer to get a good look, and guess what I found? The extra-money I left in his coat.

I sighed and shook my head. Berwald was too nice for his own good. He should have kept the extra-money.

I took the money upstairs with me, along with my guitar, and put them both away in their respective places. Once I was done, I decided to check on Peter. (Hey, I can be a nice brother too.) I stepped out of my room and walked towards his room, which was at the other side of the hallway. His door was open, like always. I peeked in silently so I wouldn't wake him up and have him make a loud tantrum.

Peter was asleep in his bed, his head resting against his fluffy, white pillow. He was covered almost fully with a blanket, and he was hugging a teddy bear close to his face.

I couldn't help but smile at the kid. It was odd to see him with such a peaceful look.

"Mmmh..." He grumbled in his sleep. "Arthur..."

I blinked. I didn't know Peter had dreams about me. Curiously, I stepped closer to listen carefully.

"Arthur..." He mumbled again, hugging his bear closer to his face.

"Yes, what's wrong?" I whispered.

"Arthur you..." His expression twisted into a scowl, "you're an ass and a freak."

My eyebrow twitched and I felt like smothering him, but I held my wishes back and instead decided to go to sleep.

...Bloody Peter.

* * *

I didn't like this chapter :/ I feel like it's...stupid.

In case you're wondering, I _did_ research a little on football before writing. I'm a total noob for that sport, though almost everyone in this place _loves_ it as much as cold beer and barbecues.

*Any of you ever had an awkward moment with a random guy/girl? As in that person tries to flirt with you, but it ended up in an uncomfortable or funny situation in which he/she makes a fool out of himself/herself?

Please review, and I'll ask Arthur and Alfred to dance around wearing maid outfits!


	5. Marriage!

**Ch. 5 – ...Marriage?**

I'M SOOOORRRRYYYYYY!

I don't have any excuses, I've been lazy. I just didn't "feel" in the mood for writing, and THAT'S when I ruin my stories. :(

Thanks everyone! You have all been so supportive and sweet! I'll pray so all of you, my dear reviewers and favorit-ers and whatnot-ers, go to heaven! :D

I think I'll change the summary. Any suggestions?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia. I don't own

...I don't know why on Earth I spelt 'Collin' instead of 'Colin'. D:

Telly -British for T.V.

* * *

I've lied. ...Kind of.

As you know, I have secrets. Tons of them, in fact. So many that I could write a book.

Mom, dad, Adam, Gareth, and Collin know most of my secrets, though I didn't choose to tell them (well, except for the gay thing that only my older siblings know about). Peter knows a few of them, the...most "innocent" ones.

...Sure, he's my (monster) brother, but I'm not about to tell him that I've already had sex or anything!

The only people that I have agreed to tell (_some_ of) my secrets to are Francis and Elizaveta (who knows only that I'm gay). That I play the guitar isn't a secret, though having a band is.

Only Francis knows everything, in fact. And only _heaven_ knows why the bloody hell I decided to choose _him_ of all people as my closest friend.

...He's a good friend, though I hate to admit it.

Anyway, one of the secrets that only my parents, Collin, and Francis know about takes place every Saturday and Sunday morning.

I don't know why I keep this a secret, though. I mean...it's not bad or anything. In fact, my parents were proud of me for doing this. ...I guess it's an old habit of mine, the one of trying to hide everything.

Perhaps you wonder what it is that I do every Saturday and Sunday morning, or am I wrong?

Well, twice a week, during the weekends, I wake up early and take my guitar to a retirement home that is about ten or fifteen minutes away by car.

Visiting the old is not a 'new' habit of mine. My grandfather lived there for a couple of years and I used to visit him almost every weekend. After he passed away (almost a year-and-a-half ago) I decided to keep going there. The old men and women that live there barely receive (voluntary) visits from young people, and they were thrilled when I stopped by to say hi, even after grandpa was gone.

I've made friends with a few of them. Sometimes I read to them, other times they like to listen to me practice, sometimes we play chess or cards, and other times we just speak.

That's the 'secret'. I know, I know, I don't really have any reason to hide such an activity. But then again, I don't have any reason to tell others either, so...

Anyway, today I did as usual: I woke up early, got a bath, got dressed, had some breakfast, and left. Mom and dad knew where I would be, so there was no problem with that. Besides, I always take my mobile with me.

I drove through the streets of the city until I arrived at the retirement home. It wasn't an extremely _fancy_ place, but it was very warm and home-like.

On the outside, it looked like a mansion made of wood and with an enormous backyard. Around the whole terrain was a tall, black, iron fence. The wood of the mansion-like retirement home was painted white, and the windows of the rooms were surrounded by a black frame. It looked kind of classy. The architecture reminded me of a lodge. ...A gigantic lodge in the middle of the city, with a black iron fence and a black, baroque gate.

The security guard at the gate of the area already knew me well, so he let me in without any fuss. Once inside, I parked my car under the shade of a tall tree and made my way towards the main door.

A stone fountain of an angel holding a vase was standing many meters in front of the main entrance. I remember that it didn't work when my grandfather first arrived, but someone eventually got it fixed. Now there was crystal water spilling out of the vase and falling into a small pool about half a meter under the angel's feet. I also remember that the angel, which was originally naked, sometimes had a white shirt on top, because one of the old women (she's gone now) used to think it was _uncouth_ to have a naked statue there.

Few people were inside. I suppose it was because that specific day had the perfect weather. You know, when the sun is outside, but it's covered with white clouds. Not the gray ones, but the ones that make the day cool and comfortable.

Most of the people inside were watching old reruns of television shows sitting on couches and having some snack.

I didn't find the people that I usually hang-out with there, and I wasn't surprised. So I made my way to the enormous garden.

The garden was what I liked the most of this whole place. It was divided into a few sections by gates with arches covered in vines. Each section had a door that lead into the wooden building that homed the grown-ups.

One of the sections had half of the floor covered in concrete, with the rest of it being grass. That section had chairs and tables made of wood. Most people ate or played games like Scrabble and Monopoly there, when the weather was okay for them.

The section that followed was the most beautiful. I suppose it was made for intellectuals, or for people who like art. That section had the same floor as the last one, but this one was adorned with many stone statues and benches. There were also several plants that grew in front of the walls, just to make it look prettier. When those plants had flowers, that area of the garden simply looked _beautiful_. The people went there to read, to paint, to play music, or just to sit down and have an interesting conversation with someone.

The last section had no grass at all, though it did have a few places where there were trees with a dark bark and leaves that turned yellow when fall came. It had many tables set around, each with a number of chairs. People only went there when they wanted to play card games, chess, or other games like those. That was were the men I went to visit were.

The two old people were sitting there, completely concentrated in their game of chess, as usual. Mr. Whatley, an Englishman that used to be a close friend of my grandfather, was holding his chin and biting his lower lip lightly. Typical habit of his. On his head was a black bowler hat, covering what was left of his grayish hair. He was wearing glasses that looked as old as himself, with a piece of tape on the center.

Right in front of him, looking as silently confident as usual, was Mr. Karkov, a man that used to live in somewhere close to Russia when he was moved to this city to be with his daughter (her husband worked here, or something) and grandchildren. Mr. He was excellent at chess, even though Mr. Whatley hated to admit it. The man wasn't _that_ old. He was about 60 or 70 years-old. Regardless of his age, I'm sure his air of confidence and, as some would say, arrogance would still be present.

From where I was, they both looked like statues. Mr. Karkov was the first to meet me from the two.

"Hey there, son." He greeted with his strong accent. "How are you?"

"Great." I answered with a small smile.

Mr. Whatley had moved a chess piece, taking advantage that Mr. Karkov was distracted. Then he turned at me, looking a little bit happier with himself. "Cheerio, young man! Glad you could come! Come sit with us and have some tea!"

"You and your damn tea." Said Mr. Karkov, not really meaning it. He turned back at the chess game and moved a pawn. "Check mate." He said, crossing his arms and smirking.

"_What_?" Mr. Whatley jerked his head back towards the game, his mouth hanging open. "But-! That's-! Oh, that's simply unbelievable!"

We spent more or less an hour talking about the things that had been going on around the retirement home: the new elevators, the crazy woman that stalked Mr. Whatley (...I'm not kidding), the old telly in the kitchen that looked as if it was from the 50's, and even the old man that had such a terrible case of amnesia that his family members had stopped coming to visit him.

"Woah, that's horrible." I mumbled, not being able to believe it.

"Quite depressing, if you ask me." Mr. Whatley answered, sighing sadly. "And he's not even a bad man."

Mr. Karkov nodded, his eyes mollifed. "The complete opposite of that new guy –what's his na—?"

"Grandpa!" A girl about 12-years-old came running towards Mr. Karkov. "Grandpa, grandpa! I told you we would visit! Mom promised we would!"

Mr. Karkov ruffled her hair and laughed. "Go tell your mother that I'll meet you all in my room. Go on, go on." The girl nodded and ran away from us. Mr. Karkov returned his gaze towards Mr. Whatley and I. "Well, fellas, I'll see ya around later." He stood up and dismissed himself.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Arthur." Mr. Whatley said once Mr. Karkov was gone. "I'm getting visits today as well. Sorry, lad. Though I'm sure you must have something more interesting to do than coming to visit old men, right?"

...Well...I could be home, doing my homework. Or practicing guitar or football. Or maybe even going out with my friends (or not, considering what time it is).

Still, I couldn't just tell him that. Besides, it was peaceful and quiet in this place. ...It smelled like baby-powder combined with peppermint, medicines, tobacco, bengay, and shaving lotion, but I still liked it here.

I shook my head and smiled. "It's alright, Mr. Whatley. I like coming to visit you."

The man laughed and nodded. "Alright, lad. Do as you please. Anyways," he scratched his left eyebrow lightly. "what was I saying before that old Karkov left...?"

"You were talking about a—"

"Oh, yes. That guy. His family comes every Thursday." Mr. Whatley nodded. "A big family, a big family. Hmm...About how many? I'd say they're near ten, sometimes even more. They are very loud and lively, sometimes it lifts up our spirits, but they can get to be very annoying too."

"Who?" I asked tilting my head to the side.

"Look, Arthur, the one that's over there." He gestured discretely towards one of the corners of the garden, where a bunch of people were laughing loudly.

It was a heart-warming scene, to tell you the truth. A dark-skinned old man was sitting with a child on his lap, both of them were laughing. Around them, three older kids were chasing each other. Close to them were another four boys and girls, playing with marbles. On the other side were several tables arranged so that many people could sit and eat together. A pair of women were placing a thick table-cloth colored in dark blue on top of the tables. Three men were arranging the chairs of the tables so that the whole family would fit. About five teenagers were bringing the dishes, the glasses, and the food to the table.

One of them turned around and saw me. Next thing I knew, the guy was running towards me, waving his hand and smiling brightly.

I recognized the green eyes and wavy hair right away. "Oh, Andy, hello." I got up from my seat and went to greet him.

"Arthur! What a coincidence! How have you been, amigo? Everything alright? You came to visit your grand parents or something?" He talked fast, even with his light accent.

"I've been fine, and every thing's okay." I answered in a more calm way. "I came to visit a couple of friends." I turned around and introduced the old man.

"Cheerio, My name's Mr. Whatley." He stood up and shook Andy's hand.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Jose's grandson, Andrés!" He replied with a very cheerful face. "Arthur, you gotta meet my abuelo!"

"Well, I..." I turned to see Mr. Whatley, who chuckled and nodded. Then I returned my eyes at Andy. "I'd certainly love to mee—"

I wasn't even finished before he pulled me all the way to the corner where the bunch of people were talking loudly.

"Abuelo, abuelo!" Andy called, making the grown man turn at him. "This is Arthur, that guy I told you about!"

"You mean the bitter British one?"

_Bitter_?

"Yeah!" Andy answered, ignoring my glare.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur." The old man extended his arm and shook my hand firmly. "My name is José de la Constancia Guadalupe Guerrero Carranza. I've heard quite a bit about you and Alfred from Andy."

His accent was a little strong, but I could still understand him. His face was darker than Andy's and his hair was grayish. His eyes were olive, darker than Andy's green eyes, and they looked a lot wiser. He had a thick mustache that was also turning gray, it made him look a lot older than he actually was. Mr. Guerrero was very cheerful and seemed even carefree at first glance, but once I spoke with him I found out that he was actually quite a thinker.

We talked a little bit about books. He knew a lot about Spanish and Hispanic authors, and he took special interest in _Life is a Dream_ and in _Don Quixote_, which I hadn't read yet. Still, I added them to my 'future reading list'.

After a while, a dark-skinned woman wearing an apron approached us. She eyed me with surprise and curiosity, but after she saw Andy, she made a quiet 'ah' sound. "Así que...se va a quedar a comer? Is he staying for lunch?"

Andy nodded, without getting my consent, by the way. "Yes, he is, he is."

It's not that I didn't want to eat with a bunch of people I didn't even _know_. ...

... ... Oh, come on! Would _you_ have lunch with a kid that can pick locks and trespasses private land? Besides, there were certainly more than ten people there! How were they going to feed everyone?

"W-w-what? But won't I be a problem? You already have your whole fam—"

Apparently, I said something funny, because Mr. Guerrero and Andy began to laugh loudly. ...and for a long period of time.

"...What's the matter?" I finally asked, raising an eyebrow. Really. No one laughs for _that_ long.

"Oh, this is not our _whole_ family." Answered Mr. Guerrero.

"Yeah, I've got more than 30 cousins!" Andy replied with a casual smile. ...As if having 30 cousins was _normal._

"You should see how the house gets during Navidad, now _that's_ a celebration!" Mr. Guerrero slapped his knee and laughed. "Ah, Arthur, why don't you stay to have lunch? You'll like the food that my Lorenita does, she cooks wonderfully."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd wanna take a rest from your English food, huh?" Andy elbowed me, his smile never wavering, even though he was getting to dangerous territory. _Dangerous_ territory... "Alfred tells me you're an awful cook!" He laughed heartily.

Oh so...Alfred spoke about me?

_Wait_! He said I was an awful cook?

"Uhh..." I managed to say intelligently.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Andy practically pulled me to the table and made me sit down right next to him. "You'll love how mama cooks!"

The _whole_ bunch of people, about 19 or 20 in total, began to sit down around the table, still chatting loudly. The five adults kept bringing the food and placing it in the center of the table –to tell you the truth, it looked and smelled great.

Andy, who now looked very proud and pleased with himself, slowly explained what each dish was.

He lost me at 'Arthur, let me explain all these traditional dishes to you! This is called mole poblano...'

After a few seconds of 'listening' (or at least I attempted) to Andy explain the different foods around the table, I felt a pair of eyes carving holes into the back of my head.

_Carving._

_Holes._

You know the feeling, am I wrong? It's like when it seems some person is trying to burn you with their eyes. And when you turn to see them, it's really freaky because they are holding one of those knives that are the size of a hammer –the ones that only butchers are supposed to use. And their eyes are beginning to turn a freaky shade of blood red, and (I _swear_) they turn into slits. Then that person's long hair begins to sway around, like Medusa's. And as she slowly walks closer and closer, you begin to think that talking to Ivan isn't really a good idea.

... ... ...Or maybe you _don't_ know the feeling.

_Anyways_, I turned around.

A girl about my age was standing akimbo and glaring at me suspiciously.

She wasn't Natalia, but that didn't make it any better. No, scratch that, it _did_ make it better!

Her silky, chocolate-brown hair was arranged in a pair of braids. Her white shirt was frilly and loose, and her long skirt was _eye-blinding-ly_ colorful. (LSD strikes again!)

And apparently, she didn't like me.

"Oh, stop glaring at him like that, Citlali." Andy complained, stopping his explanation of the food. "He's a friend of mine, his name is Arthur."

She didn't move an inch. "Es gringo?"

"No, no, he's from England." Andy corrected her, sounding as if he was tired. "And don't talk in spanish, it's rude."

"Humph." She sat down next to me.

"Come on, Citlali~" He said in a sing-song voice.

The girl rolled her eyes. She turned around to see me, not removing the frown from her face. "...My name is Citlalmina Guerrero Salas."

Andy, merry as always, introduced the girl. "This is my sister, you can call her Citlali."

"Cit—Citlali?" I had some trouble pronouncing the name for the first time. Hell, I didn't even know that was a name! "Uh...Hello, my name is Arthur Kirkland." I stretched my hand to greet her.

Citlali took it and shook it firmly. "Hmm, he's got manners. He really isn't gringo."

"I told you, he's from _England_." Andy repeated, sounding slightly annoyed. "Arthur is a friend, right?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure myself.

Really.

I had met this guy once at Alfred's place, and now I was eating with his family? That made no sense at all. Next thing I'll know is that we're getting married!

...No! I don't want to get married to someone I don't know anything about! Just imagine that! I'd have to visit his _whole_ family during important celebrations! What if his family didn't like me? I'd have to learn to get used to the costumes of Andy's family anyways! These people are always laughing and smiling as if they didn't give a shite about anything! In England, people don't just laugh ridiculously loudly in the middle of the street! These guys are just _too_ friendly! They get so _close_ to each other, don't they know anything about personal space? Oh my, and I'd have to learn to make tortillas and tacos! Look at all this food, I'd have to cook _a lot_ to feed our family! And just imagine how many children he'd want us to have! What would our kids' names be? Completely and ridiculously unpronounceable –that's how they'd be! I mean, I'm not saying Andy isn't a good bachelor –he's not bad at all– but I'd need to get to know him more! And what about Alfred? I can't just _stop_ liking Alfred to marry Andy! Besides, they're friends!

Andy's voice penetrated my daydream. "So what do you think?"

"No way! It's too soon!" I answered, my mind still fixed in the whole situation of marrying Andy.

"...Uh...what is too soon?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I blushed faintly, out of embarrassment. "I mean –I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

Andy laughed. "I asked if you thought we looked similar."

...Similar...? I blinked a few times. "...Why? Are you siblings?"

"Yes," Citlali answered. I could feel that she still didn't quite like me. "We're twins."

"...Twins?" I blinked several times and alternated looks between the two of them.

"Non-identical." Andy added, clearing my doubts. "We're '_cuates'_!"

Non-identical twins, or as Andy called it: 'cuates', made more sense than actual _twins_. They _did_ look like siblings, but both were still rather different. Andy's skin was a much lighter tone than Citlali's. His hair was wavy, while her hair was, as far as I could tell, straight. Andy's eyes were a lighter tone of green than her almond-shaped olive eyes. Also, Citlali looked much smaller in size than her brother, and to tell you the truth, she also looked a little bit younger. Which was _very_ surprising.

I was about to say something, but I felt someone's eyes staring at me again.

...I just hoped it wasn't another person who would distrust me as much as Citlali (or Natalia) did.

But this time, when I turned around, I didn't find a person sending me a death glare (or waving a butcher-knife). Instead, I found the curious chocolate eyes of a pair of kids who where whispering things in Spanish at each other. They glanced at me discreetly a few times. Or well, as discreetly as they could.

...Which wasn't much.

Andy, who had noticed as well, chuckled and motioned the kids to get closer. He said something to them in Spanish, and they replied in Spanish as well.

The only word I could understand was 'gringo'.

...I already knew what was coming.

"They think you're from the USA." Andy said grinning. "Come on, say something, Arthur. They don't believe that you're English."

"...Say something like what?" I asked confused.

The two kids gasped and looked at each other amazed. One of them, a little boy with a bright orange shirt, pulled at my sleeve. "So you're not American?" His accent was very strong.

I smiled at him. "Oh, heavens, no. I'm from England."

The other boy looked at Andy rather excited. "Where did you meet him? I thought he was a gringo!"

Surprise, surprise!

Andy shook his head at the boy. "Just because he's blond doesn't mean he's American, you know?"

"Where did you meet him? At school?" The boy ignored him.

"No," he glanced lightly at Citlali, but returned to see the boy quickly. "I met him at Alfred's house."

I heard a loud '_HMPH'_. Coming from Citlali, who had rolled her eyes. Then I felt something pull on my sleeve again, and I turned down to meet the face of the orange-shirted boy. He immediately fixed his stare at the floor.

"Uhm..." he mumbled. "...Can I...Can I...touch your hair?"

A light laugh escaped my lips. "Sure, go on."

That was a strange question, to tell you the truth. But I could never say no to a child's innocent request.

...Unless it was Peter. (But then again, his requests weren't innocent. Because he's a monster.)

The boy got excited and reached to touch my hair. "It's _real_!" I couldn't help but laugh.

After a few seconds, the other boy joined in and touched my hair as well.

I don't know how it happened, but we began a random conversation, one that I don't remember well because half of my mind was paying attention at the argument between Citlali and Andy.

It was about _Alfred_.

Apparently, Citlali didn't like him. At all. Andy, on the other hand, was a close friend of Alfred.

I think that, out of the whole argument, what stuck out the most was when Citlali told Andy that he was becoming more and more 'americanized'.

Their argument was finally over when their grandfather came to sit in front of them wearing a tired smile and oblivious to the argument.

Once they were forced to end their quarrel, they both sat angry at each other. With me in the middle.

..._Awk_-ward.

* * *

I'm sorry if you didn't like it. I have something better planned for the future, please be a little (...or a lot, depends on you) more patient with me.

GRINGO IS NOT AN OFFENSIVE TERM! Just in case you thought otherwise. :)

Believe it or not, there _are_ people in Mexico who have loooooong names. Like José María Morelos Perez y Pavón.

I have 36 cousins (from my dad and mom's sisters and brothers. I could count _their_ cousins' offspring too, but then...well, that would be...too much.).

Navidad - Christmas

Abuelo – grandfather

Se va a quedar a comer? – Is he staying for lunch?

Mole poblano – it's a type of Mexican food :P

Cuates- non-identical twins.

About the 'americanized' thing: it's true! In the North, we celebrate Santa Clause, but in the South they celebrate Jesus when he was a baby (el niño Jesús). In the North, the three kings/three wise men aren't as celebrated as they are in the South (people give gifts in Día de Reyes instead of x-mas). Also, we have words that come from English here (like 'troca' from 'truck'). Oh, and here we celebrate Halloween, but in the South they celebrate Día de Muertos more. I celebrate Día de Muertos too, but I can bet you most of my classmates don't. Which is _really_ sad.


	6. In Sickness and in Health

**Ch. 7- In sickness and in health...**

...Arthur will be there to take care of certain American :P

I'm sorry I haven't updated! I have heavy issues with procrastination, responsibility, and commitment (not kidding).

Just wanted you to know that there's a special place in my heart reserved only for all of you. ...Maybe that's why I don't have a boyfriend...?

I felt really guilty today, so I spent recess at school writing a short filler-chapter.

I WILL continue this story, it's going to end. Maybe not right now, or tomorrow, but it will end.

**Disclaimer** – APH isn't mine, or there would be many more female characters and much more fanservice (at least more SuFin and UsUk!).

Divvy- Dimwit

...Don't you think the English have many words for 'idiot'?

* * *

That weekend was pretty calm. I didn't receive any visits from anyone. ...Probably because they all had a hangover due to a party. I was glad I stayed inside the house through most of the weekend, though, because it had been raining like crazy and the wind was very cold.

Only an idiot would go out during a weekend like that.

And I wasn't surprised when Alfred told me that he had a headache on Monday.

Or when he went to the nurse's office on Tuesday.

Or when he didn't come to school on Wednesday and Thursday.

But I began to get worried when he didn't show up on Friday.

So I decided to pay him a little visit. Besides, he had a bit of homework to do (since he had been missing for three days). We hadn't really been doing much during those days but...I felt a little bad for him, even if it wasn't so much work to do.

After calling Alfred's parents, informing them about his homework, and asking my parents for permission to go to Alfred's place, I took off.

When I got there, Alfred's mother opened the door for me. She looked a little bit troubled.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones." I greeted her. "Where can I–?"

Her mobile began to ring. "Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur!" She answered the device. "Hello? ... ..._MATHEW_? Where are you, sweetie? We've been looking for you all around the house! ... ...What do you mean you're at the mall? We just came back from there! ... ..._Oh..._" She sighed, exasperated. "Okay, sweetie, don't move from where you are, your father and I will go there to pick you up immediately, alright? ... ...Don't be scared, sweetie! Buh-bye!"

"...Mathew?" I blinked.

"Yes, can you believe it?" She grabbed her purse and began to walk hastily towards the living room, with me following closely. "I forgot my own kid at the mall! How dumb! I can't believe I did that! Frank? Frank!"

"Yes, yes, I'm here." The husband appeared out of the kitchen. "What's wrong? Did you find Mathew?"

"He's at the mall! We forgot him at the mall!"

His beer _almost_ fell out of his grasp. "..._What_?"

"We need to get there right now! Who knows what could happen to him!" She began to pull on his hand. "Let's go!"

"Oh! You're going out?" The grandmother of Alfred popped out of somewhere. "I need you to buy some things if you're going out!"

"Mom, we just went to the supermarket yesterday!" Alfred's father (Frank) said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, well, yesterday we weren't missing all these." The old woman gave him a list and pointed at something in it. "Remember to buy the ones that are blue. The other ones aren't good at all. Oh, and don't forget to bring the soap that smells like roses and the shampoo that smells like cinnamon -"

"Okay, mom," Frank sighed heavily again, "just come with us." He began to lead the old woman out of the house. "We'll be at the car!"

"Sure, sweetie!" Alfred's mother called. "Oh, where did I leave my keys? Ah, here they are! ...Oh no! Alfie! Who's gonna look after Alfie while we're gone?"

"Umm..." I mumbled, feeling a little awkward.

Mrs. Jones turned to me. "Oh, my God! Arthur, I'm _so_ sorry for asking this all of a sudden! Do you mind staying here for a while with Alfie? The poor boy is so sick! I'm afraid of leaving him alone!"

"Uhh...sure." I nodded. The coach was gonna kill me for skipping this class, but how could I say no to her in this situation?

"Oh! Thank you, thank you!" She hugged me tightly. "You're welcome in this house _always_! If I had a spare key, I'd give it to you!"

I smiled at her nervously. "Ah...that's not really necessary, Mrs. Jones..."

"I owe you a big favor! Here, this is my cell phone in case there's an emergency!" She scribbled her number in a napkin. "And over here are the medicines that Alfie is taking, along with the instructions written down!" She showed me a couple of antibiotics and a piece of paper. "Oh, Arthur, I really owe you one!"

She hugged me again and then left with her husband and Alfred's grandmother to look for Mathew and get groceries.

And now the house was empty and quiet.

I grabbed Alfred's homework and went upstairs to hand it to him.

Once I got up there, I knocked a few times to get permission from Alfred to get in.

"Mom? What was all that noise?" He asked in a raspy voice from the other side of the door. "Mom? Come in."

"Hey Alfred." I walked inside instead of his mother, and he stared at me surprised.

"A-Arthur?" He reached for his glasses and put them on. "What are you doing here?" Alfred was laying on bed, watching something on T.V. (...probably cartoons), but he turned off the television before I could see what he was watching.

"I came to give you your homework, divvy." I answered, making my way through his room and placing a few books on the edge of his bed.

He stared at the books with a tired expression. "...Geez."

I ignored him. "Though I think I'm gonna stay for a while. Your parents and grandma are out looking for Mathew and for groceries."

"Oh," Alfred said, with a completely neutral expression. "Did they forget him at the mall again?"

..._Again_? No wonder he looked so...unsurprised.

"Uh...yes."

"Hmm...it happened once, when Matt was little." Alfred reached to pick up a notebook. "...Ah, so much homework."

"It really isn't that much." I answered smiling at him amused.

"That's because you're smart." He answered with the closest thing to a pout, not taking his eyes away from the notebook.

I chuckled. He had just said something nice to me, and I didn't know if he had noticed!

"Uh...Arthur..." Alfred looked at his bedsheets shyly. "...Could you stay to help me?"

"Eh?" I blushed lightly. "...Well, I _was_ going to stay anyways, you know? Who's gonna watch over you while you're sick if everyone's gone?"

Alfred laughed. "Oh, but I'm not _that_ sick! I'm fi—!" He coughed. Don't you just love perfect timing?

"Hey," I raised an eyebrow, "are you sure?"

"I'll be fine..." He mumbled once he had stopped coughing. "But...Are you sure you want to stay? Aren't you scared of getting my same sickness?"

I laughed. "Oh no, don't be ridiculous! I've already gotten my shots." Besides, I rarely got sick. I've always been a very healthy person. I wasn't afraid of some random sickness, tch.

Alfred smiled, somewhat relieved. "...I see. Well, then...can you help me with my homework?"

"Sure." I nodded, sending him a small smile.

"We're almost done! Why don't we take a small break?" I put down a math book.

"Uh-huh." Alfred said, though he wasn't taking his eyes away from his notebook.

"...Alfred?" I pulled his notebook away. "You're sick, remember? This may be homework, but...don't push yourself."

He smiled and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're right."

Though Alfred was smiling, I could see his cheeks were red. "Hmm...you look a little flushed, are you really okay?"

"Huh...? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." His eyes looked lost. I didn't like this.

I checked my watch. "At what time do you need to take your medicine?"

"I took them right before lunch."

"Alright." I got up and made my way to the door. "...I'll go get you something to drink, Alfred. You need to drink plenty of liquids."

"Mm-hmm..."

I felt a little uncomfortable about leaving Alfred behind, especially since he was looking so sick, so I decided to get his water quickly.

When I got back, I found Alfred asleep. He was curled in a little ball, hugging his blankets. His breathing seemed a little coarse, but anyone who was sick would breathe like that.

I took off his glasses and placed them on his nightstand, next to the glass of water that I had brought him. I grabbed a chair and sat down next to his bed, trying to decide something to do, but I got distracted by Alfred.

He looked so...tired. I was glad that he was asleep, he had been working hard to finish his homework (which I thought was a rare occurrence).

Even though Alfred was sick I...I still thought he looked...really handsome. He was so attractive...

I just leaned on the bed and kept gazing at him quietly, not knowing when _I_ fell asleep.

I woke up to an uncomfortable groan. I opened my eyes groggily and covered my mouth when I yawned. Then there was another groan of pain and I turned to see Alfred.

His skin looked pale, his cheeks were flushed a brighter tone of red, he was sweating, and he tossing around in his bed.

A raspy moan escaped his lips.

"Alfred!" I placed my hand on his forehead and gasped. "Dear Lord, you're burning with fever!"

Immediately, I shot out of my seat and ran to his bathroom. I grabbed a small towel and got it wet. I came back and put it on top of Alfred's forehead.

After that, I ran downstairs to get his medicines and called Alfred's mother. We couldn't get to speak to each other for long, and I guessed she didn't understand me because she was saying something about buying strawberries.

I knew what to do anyway. I had taken care of my brothers lots of times before, they all got sick very oftenly.

When I returned to the room Alfred was tossing around in his bed again, so I put down the medicines and tried to wake him up.

"Alfred, Alfred, wake up." I shook his shoulder lightly. "Alfred, I know you feel terrible, but please wake up."

He only managed to have his eyes half-open, but I could tell he had heard me since he wasn't moving around anymore. I smiled at him and made him sit up straight so he would have some water. When he laid down again, I placed the soaked towel on top of his forehead and sat down on the chair next to his bed.

The towel lost its coldness after a while, so I took it off his head and attempted to get it wet in cold water again. But something pulled on my sleeve. When I turned around, I saw Alfred tugging my clothes.

"Please don't go, Arthur." He mumbled with difficulty, still looking feverish.

"Shh..." I smiled at him soothingly. "I need to get the thermometer and get this towel soaked on water. I won't be long, I promise."

After hesitating, he let go of my clothes. "...It's in the cabinet."

"Alright." I ran to his bathroom, opened the cabinet, took out the thermometer, soaked the towel in water, and then returned to Alfred.

I put the thermometer in Alfred's mouth. After 5 minutes, I took it out and checked it. Damn it, 39° Celsius! While I thought of another way to cool him down, I put the towel on his forehead again.

I didn't feel very comfortable with using medicines, besides, I had no time to look for them right now. But don't panick, there _was_ something I could do.

But...I just...

Another moan from Alfred made me throw away all doubts, and I dashed to his bathroom. I was glad that Alfred had a bath tub, because I was going to need it. I mean..._he_ was going to need it!

One time, Collin got sick. To cool him off, my parents (and I helped too) gave him a shower with warm water. Not too cold, but not hot either.

That was what I was going to do. While the tub got full, I ran back to check on Alfred.

"How are you feeling, Al?" In a completely out-of-character gesture of mine, I brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.

"I'm...okay..." He smiled lightly, though I could still see he was in pain. "...You called me Al."

I sent him a sorry smile. He didn't deserve to look like this. He was such a sweet boy, really. "Listen, _Al_, you have a high fever. To cool off, you need to take a bath, okay?"

"Anything." He mumbled, clenching his eyes. "What will you do in the mean time?"

"I-I-I'll be outside, o-obviously! W-well, unless y-you want me to be there..." I managed to stutter, blushing. "I-I'm just worried about you."

Alfred nodded lightly. "Don't worry, we're both guys."

Oh, and how does that obvious fact make everything better?

Alfred ended up discarding his clothes and getting in the tub (obviously by himself, you perverted reader). I was in the bathroom too, but I wasn't looking at him. I had my back pressed against a small wall that was between the bathroom and the bath tub.

I was, however, blushing fiercely. Imagine that you're in the same room with a _really_ handsome guy that happens to be naked. And taking a bath.

It's torture.

When he was feeling a little better, he walked out of the tub and dried himself up. He put on some loose clothes, dried his hair, and we walked out of the bathroom. Alfred looked better, but I could tell he was still a little feverish.

"Oh," I glanced at my watch, "it's time for your medicines."

"...Ugh, okay." Well, at least he was feeling good enough to make a face.

Alfred took a sit on the bed and I sat down next to him. I felt like I was giving the medicine to a kid. He frowned when I poured the exact amount of pink medicine into his mouth and he had to force himself to gulp. I repeated this with another medicine, this one colored in an almost-transparent dark brown. Again, Alfred had to force himself to gulp the thick liquid.

"Really," I closed the bottle of medicine, "you're just like a child."

Alfred chuckled and coughed lightly.

I couldn't help but look at him worriedly. "...Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, yeah." He nodded, massaging his head with his left hand.

After a few seconds of looking at him with doubt, I began to get up to take the medicines to the kitchen. But Alfred pulled on my sleeve. "Please stay." He looked a little...scared.

"I just need to take this to the kitch—"

"Arthur," Alfred pulled me down with determination, "please. You can do that later."

I sighed in defeat and sat down, trying to hid the light smile playing on my lips. "...Alright."

Even though he had a very comfortable pillow, he still decided to use my shoulder instead. I could feel the heat from his face coming through the fabric of my shirt.

Eventually, Alfred fell asleep. I ended up stroking his hair, though I doubted on doing it at the beginning. Well, the guy was sick, he needed some comfort, and that was as much as I could give him. Besides, I never got sick anyway. I could be around him and his germs all day long and I'd be fine.

...You know, though Alfred was sick, he still looked rather cute.

I was getting sleepy. I was getting so sleepy...that I didn't notice when someone knocked on the door.

I didn't notice it until it opened and I saw Alfred's father.

I _jumped_ out of the chair, and Alfred's head hit against the arm rest.

He...didn't look amused.

"Ouch!" He woke up right away and grumbled. But I was too worried with Alfred's father to pay attention to Alfred.

I felt my face numb, and immediately I knew I was probably the color of talcum powder. "S-S-SIR! I-I-I-It's n-not w-w-what you—!"

"—Yeah, yeah." He interrupted, seething. "Just...came to...check on my son...You know, to make sure he was in no danger..."

I could almost hear him saying: Of being raped by you.

But he didn't say it.

...I think.

Just so you know, the next day I woke up at about 2:00 a.m. with a terrible headache. Afraid of being sick (because, let's face it, it _sucks_) I walked downstairs and drank some orange juice along with the typical pill that makes headaches leave. That gorgeous, white, little piece of medicine that is almost like heaven when you feel like your head is in between a really strong magnet and a piece of metal.

I went back upstairs and into my bedroom, turned the lights off, and went to sleep.

The problem was, I couldn't sleep. So I, completely awake, got out of bed and began to read some random short story that I found in a book. After finishing it, I went back to bed and tried to sleep. It didn't work. I decided to get a glass of warm milk, but that didn't work either. I think I forgot to mention that the pill contained caffeine.

You want to know what I did for about two more hours in my desperate attempt to get tired?

Played solitaire

Went to the bathroom

Drank juice

Made my bed and then got inside it

Did three sudoku puzzles

Counted until 267 while listening to music with my headphones

Imagined what would happen if Heather went to live in the wilderness and drank juice

Thought about Alfred while drinking more juice (I decided to bring the bottle upstairs)

Mentally cursed Alfred for giving me a headache (...it was his fault!)

Tried to remember everything I had done last week

Did some of my homework while drinking juice

Listened to classical music with my headphones

Finished the rest of the juice

Mentally reviewed some of England's history

Realized I had already finished a whole liter of orange juice. In one _night_.

Wondered what it was that I did wrong when I cooked

Placed Peter's hand in a glass of water, just for the heck of it

Solved a crossword puzzle

Did some progressive muscle relaxation

Woke up Francis by calling him with my mobile -may I remind you this was close to 3:oo a.m.

Realized vitamin C is water soluble

Cursed Alfred mentally, then switched to Heather because...well, for no real reason

And finally went to sleep.

Though I had to run to the bathroom many times during the night and the next day.

Stupid Alfred. Screw him and his sickness. Screw him and his germs. Screw him and his stupid sexy self.

* * *

I hope you liked it!

Please review, even if it's anonymous! It means a lot. Trully, a lot. Even if you think that it doesn't.

Your reviews make me really happy, they cheer me up, and inspire me to continue writing!

...And I'd like you to know that I actually had to search for "squiggly line character" to find the ~. I can't find it on my keyboard anymore, the American is just...too confusing. The same happens with my at symbol. D:


	7. Ultimate Plan of Doom

**Ch.7- Ultimate Plan of Doom**

Special thanks to all the people who review/read/add-as-favourite/et al. ..._and_ to for the definition.

I am aware that England and the USA don't use the metric system that NORMAL PEOPLE DO. But bear with me, I have absolutely no clue of what anyone is talking about when they speak in lbs, ft, in, and all that crap.

(US, GB, Liberia, and Burma just had to be special, didn't they?)

YOOOOO HOOO HO! TRA LA LA LA! YO HO HO! TRA LA LA LA!

That episode was so _so_ random xD

ANOTHER THING! I know how all of you have been expecting some **UsxUK** action already, so I'll stop teasing and get on with the real stuff in Ch. 7. Yes, Ch. 7.

Oh, the drama.

Disculpa- Excuse me; sorry.

* * *

Several weeks went by.

Several _horrible_ weeks, full of incredible amounts of homework. I swear I will _never_ know why teachers seem to decide to give out homeworks, projects, and exams the same dates! If _you're_ a teacher, please do explain this phenomenon!

Of course, after the storm comes the sunshine, the rainbows, the fairies and whatnot. And the supposed 'sunshine' after the 'storm' (blizzard-hurricane-monsoon-tsunami) of school-work, was another party. This time, it wasn't hosted by Heather, it was hosted by _Feliks._

Usually, I wouldn't even _dare_ to step 2 (kilo)meters close to his parties. But...things happened.

Elizaveta smiled brightly. "So are you going to Feliks's—?"

"—No."

"What? But you didn't even know what I was going to say!" She mumbled almost complaining.

"Anything that includes Feliks is usually not healthy." I turned my attention to the board, where the teacher had begun writing information about asymptotes for tomorrow's lesson.

"Oh, come on Arthur!" She pleaded. "It will be fun! You need to go to parties more often! Please?"

I shook my head silently.

"Aww...But everyone's gonna be there! Even Kiku, _Roderich_, Ludwig, Lovino, Yao, and Tino! And you know that they barely go to parties!"

Well, Ludwig and Lovino going to Feliks's party? And _Roderich_? That was news. But still, I was never the type to be convinced by peer pressure.

"Sorry Eliza, but I don't feel like going out Saturday night. And that's final." I don't know about you, but I'd rather stay in my house, have a nice dinner that does not include cross-dressing polish men (not that I have anything against them/you), and read a nice book.

But of course, certain American couldn't have it that way.

"_What_?" Alfred blared loudly enough to earn an angry look from the teacher. "Uhh, sorry Mr. Spencer." I have absolutely _no_ idea where he came from or since when the nosy git had been listening to my conversation with Elizaveta.

...Not that I minded, though.

"Well, it's exactly like you heard it." I answered calmly.

"But Arthur~!" He sat down right next to me. "How can you _not_ go to Feliks's party? The guy is awesome! ...Well, he's kinda weird and he's not as awesome as I am, but he's still cool!"

I was _so_ happy that Feliks had decided not to come that day to school, because Alfred was still speaking loudly. And he spent the last 5 minutes of the class trying to convince me to go.

He failed.

"Feliks said he'll be having music and drinks, and that only a few people are invited to go." He followed me outside of the classroom (the math teacher was glaring at us as we left, by the way), and all the way towards my locker.

I'm guessing that with 'a few' he meant 'the whole grade'.

I was about to leave the American speaking to himself about how cool the party was going to be, when Alfred stepped in front of me and blocked my way. I tried to move around, but Alfred wouldn't let me, the idiot. If it wasn't because we had our recess after math class, then I'd smack him with my 3-kilogram AP Literature book. On his face. And then run.

"Come on, Artie, don't be such a party pooper!"

Did he just call me '_Artie_'!

"First of all, _don't_ call me Artie. _Ever_." I seethed at him. "Second: Alfred, there's no way you'll convince me."

"But Arthur, it will be so much fun! You'll love it!"

"No, thank you."

"But _Arthur_!" He raised his hands in the air, "It's gonna be a _cool_ party!"

"No, Alfred, I'd rather be doing something else Saturday night. Besides, it's not like Feliks will notice that I—"

"Aww, come on, Arthur! Please go!"

...Did he just say '_please'_?

I blinked confused. "...I'm sorry? Did you by any chance just ask me to '_please'_ go to Feliks's party?"

Alfred shut his mouth _immediately_. "I-I...uh...I mean –it wouldn't be the same without you...you're a cool guy. Not as cool as I am, but you're still close. Not that you're lame, I'm just saying that since you're not me, then you're not as cool as me. I'm not trying to brag. I just have a high self-esteem, mom says that it's not bad for our mental health to have a high self-esteem she actually says that it helps us become better persons ,youknowwhatI'mtalkingabout,right?Because—"

His mouth was running at about 600 miles per hour! "Umm...Alfred...are you alright?"

"—'mlearningaboutitinmy APChemistryclassit'sreallytoughbutit'skindoffuntoo,youknow?"

"Alfred...?"

"—andwhenwelearnedaboutAvogadro'snumberwhichis6.022timestentothetwentythird —"

"—would you stop talking for a second?" I tried to be really calm. It's hard when an idiot is speaking fast enough to make English sound like Chinese. _Chinese_.

"— eatingforhiswholelifebuthe' finallyhebecomesonewithher—"

"—_ALFRED_!" I shook his shoulders. "What the bloody _hell_ are you talking about?"

He _finally_ (FINALLY) stopped speed-talking and began to turn a _bright_ tone of red. "Uh...sorry. ...I was digressing."

..._Digressing_? That was not digressing, that was reciting the whole _chemistry_ book!

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I tend to do that when I'm nervous. Sorry."

"Uh...no...it's okay..." I mumbled, still kind of...you know, _freaked out_.

Anyway, so _that's_ how Alfred managed to convince me to go to a cross-dresser's party.

... ...What? If a hot guy comes over and tells you: 'please go to the party' I bet that _you_ would be all squealy-like. On the other hand, a person like me, who has control over his body, didn't/wouldn't do that.

...Or at least not in front of him.

When the day of the party finally arrived, I took a shower and dressed with jeans and a black button-up shirt. It wasn't Feliks-like-extravagant, and it wasn't distasteful either. It just was. When I asked Alfred what to wear, he told me "Feliks said nothing fancy".

...The poor American fool probably didn't know that for Feliks, 'nothing fancy' was a synonym for bright pink tank tops, orange skirts, and lemon-green stilettos.

After getting dressed, I took the car and drove to the party. I was there _exactly_ at the time I was supposed to be there, not earlier and not later.

It's rude to be late to an appointment.

"Oh~" Feliks opened the door and let me in. "This is, like, a total surprise! I didn't know that you actually went to, like, parties, Arthur!"

"Yeah, well..." I mumbled, not knowing what to say. "Uh...where is...everyone?"

Feliks laughed and began to lead me to his backyard. "You arrived like _so_ early. I told everyone the party was at like, you know, eight."

At eight? I blinked confused. "...But Alfred said –"

Again, he laughed. "_Oh_! No wonder!" I raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. "Anyway, Arthur, this is, like, my backyard. Over there are your friends. I'd totally love to stay, but I have to get some things, like, ready. You know, like locking doors and making sure that everything that is, like, breakable is totally safe. I'll be just a while."

"O...kay..." I mumbled and made my way towards a bunch of white leather couches on the grass, several meters away from where Feliks had left me.

This might sound sudden, but do you have any idea of what the word "awkward" means?

_Awkward- (n) embarrassing or inconvenient; caused by lack of social grace._

That does _not_ explain the feeling I got when I realized that there were, at most, six people in Feliks's house.

And it didn't help that Alfred was _not_ one of them.

"Hey look! It's Arthur, ve~!" The Italian, wearing a light blue button shirt, greeted me as happy as usual.

Hmm...Feliciano? Early? That was odd.

"Hola!" Antonio stood up and ran towards me. "Arthur! Hello, how have you been? You look good! I'm glad you came to the party!"

"Ugh, stop being such a kiss ass, you idiot!" Lovino yelled from his seat on the couch, rolling his eyes.

We sat down. Antonio next to Lovino, and I in front of both of them, in a couch separate from Feliciano.

"But Lovi, I was being polite and friendly! Like I always try to be!" Antonio smiled apologetically. He began to scoot closer to Lovino slowly, the red fabric of his shirt closer and closer to the khaki of Lovino's shirt.

Lovino crossed his arms and looked away. "Shit, can't you act like a freaking normal person at least _once_ in your life?"

Antonio laughed and shook his head, leaning on Lovino's shoulder. "Aww, don't be so mean to me, Lovi~!"

"Get your fucking face away from me, you idiot!" Lovino pushed Antonio away from his shoulder, though it was not meant to _actually_ make the Spaniard leave.

Soon, both of them began a verbal fight. Yes, a verbal fight. Antonio began a _love_ fight, and Lovino began a _curse_ fight.

"Aah! Don't be so mean to Antonio, Lovino!" Feliciano tried to intervene, but his brother didn't listen.

It was normal for Antonio to be so attentive, he was always like that, very polite, generous, and cheerful. And it was normal for Lovino to have such a colorful tongue. But still, they both usually arrived at least half an hour late.

"Mein Gott!" A deep authoritative voice boomed from behind me.

_Oh_...Now I understood.

I turned around to see a frowning German wearing a forest green shirt. "I leave for a few minutes, and you manage to get into a fight! You _do_ know that Feliks's mother is around right?"

Antonio smiled apologetically. "Disculpa, sorry."

Lovino crossed his arms and grumbled with a light pout. "Stupid potato bastard."

"Ve~" Feliciano smiled brightly as Ludwig sat down next to him.

So...Ludwig, always polite and very strict, arrived to the party early. Along with him came Feliciano. Lovino arrived soon as well, probably to check on his brother and Ludwig. And along with Lovino, came Antonio. I felt like Sherlock Holmes.

"Sorry, Arthur." Ludwig ran a tired hand through his blond hair. "I hope these three didn't cause you any bother. … ... ...Umm...H-Hello, how are you."

Awww...Ludwig probably read somewhere in a manual that 'Hello, how are you?' is a common phrase to greet acquaintances. No wonder his voice sounded so stiff while saying it. And as usual, it seemed more like a statement than a question.

"I'm fine, and they caused no trouble." I answered, trying to help Ludwig relax. "Why did you all arrive so early?"

Ludwig sighed heavily. "Alfred told us that the party started at seven."

"...He told me that too." I grumbled. "The git got the time wrong. By an hour."

We stayed there for the whole hour. As I said before, it was pretty awkward. First, Lovino yelled something at Ludwig, who simply sighed deeply and didn't pay much attention to the Italian, who kept arguing and calling him an (and I quote) 'impotent potato bastard'. Then Ludwig (in all his right to defend his manhood) asked Lovino to be quiet and quit acting like he was a kid. Lovino got pissed off and continued arguing. Feliciano tried to stop the fight by asking his brother to be nicer (it went something like: "Please, Lovi, stop in the name of pasta!"). Lovino then started to argue with Feliciano. Antonio, being the nice person he always is, tried to stop Lovino from being so rude towards his brother and Ludwig. So Lovino turned his rude comments towards Antonio. I kept myself quiet until I started to feel a migraine that tempted to ruin my night. Then I asked Lovino to please lower the volume.

What was his answer?

"Fuck you, stupid British kid! All you know how to cook is fish n' chips, and you can't even do that properly! You are in no right to speak to me, jerk!"

So I sighed deeply and decided to be quiet. Even though I was deeply insulted because, seriously, I can cook more than just fish and chips. Humph.

Anyways, that's Lovino. He argues all the time and yells at everyone. He's bearable when he isn't around Ludwig, but considering the fact that Ludwig and Feliciano are almost always together, you can assume that Lovino isn't bearable most of the time. Especially today.

As I said, the people there were Feliciano and Ludwig, and Lovino and Antonio. And I, the third wheel. Multiplied by two.

It got me into thinking, though. I hadn't been harassed by Heather in a while. I was pretty happy about it and knew the reason: she had started going out with the school's basketball star. Some guy named Harry or Larry...I can't remember his name. I know it rhymed with "hairy", though... The point is that they had been dating for a while, so I suppose her hormone-affected-polar-bear temperament was under control. She hadn't changed much, to tell the truth. She still wore the short skirts of always (maybe her parents were too cheap to change her clothes from ten years ago), she still arrived with a terrible headache to school -especially on Mondays, and she still wore too much makeup and fake eyelashes. To _school_. Who wears fake eyelashes to school on a daily basis?

Anyways, the first ones to arrive (after us, that is) were Tino and Berwald. (Guess what? Alfred had told them at what time the party started as well.) Half an hour had passed before they stepped on the garden, Tino wearing light blue button shirt and Berwald wearing a navy blue one. After they walked in, Lovino became a lot more quiet. I have two hypotheses on that behavior:

a) Tino's sweet and innocent temperament made Lovino stop his ranting, or

b) Berwald intimidated Lovino.

Either way, he became quiet. Thank _God_.

After they both arrived, a bunch of men started moving things to the backyard. Things like more couches, tables, sound equipment, light effects, and all that stuff that people use at parties.

Another half an hour passed before more and more people started to arrive. Eventually, the closest friends of Feliks (who arrived early) crowded the backyard. Antonio went to talk with some of them because they were just standing around, doing nothing and acting kind of...awkward. Even though he invited Lovino to stand up and go with him, the Italian stayed behind.

For about five seconds.

Then he jumped out of his seat and ran after him.

Feliciano followed after Lovino and Antonio, being the overly-friendly and social person he can get to be more often than not.

Tino went to greet Toris and Edward (a poor soul from Estonia who is sometimes followed by Ivan –and trust me, sometimes is too many times when speaking of Ivan Braginsky.) Of course Berwald stayed behind because...well, Edward and Toris –and almost everyone else I know– are basically intimidated (scared, frightened, haunted) by him.

The ones left with me were Ludwig and Berwald, who were watching their respective dates –I mean, _friends _while they spoke with the rest of the other people around the yard.

(Yeah, friends...

_Close_ friends.)

The three of us started a conversation on some random subject. It began with something about music, then shifted to barbecue sauce (...don't ask me how that happened...), then they talked about school and the sports played at the school...I wasn't really paying much attention. You know, just doing that whole 'smile and nod your head' thing.

Until they asked me if I was going to be alright after what happened with some guy named Gary.

"Gary? Gary who?" I tilted my head to the side curiously.

"Gary Johnson?" Ludwig said in a tone that told me I was supposed to know who he was.

"Oh...uh...right." I nodded, having no idea whatsoever of who on Earth he was or what was his importance to my life.

"Th' b'sk'tb'll pl'y'r." Berwald clarified.

Oh, alright.

Hairy Gary, the school's basketball superstar.

"...Well...what's wrong with him?" I asked, even though I couldn't care less.

"He made an utter fool out of himself at a party." Ludwig answered, his voice and look pretty stoical and, definitely, not surprised. "He was drunk and he was hitting on our calculus teacher."

"...So?" It's not unexpected that he was flirting with the seniors' calculus teacher.

"He threw up on her dress and then passed out."

...Ewgh.

"Oh God...that's just terrible...Poor woman, she must have been really upset..." I'm sorry for that woman. I trully am. Hairy Gary and his alcohol poisoning? Whatever, that's not news. "...so what?" How does him throwing up on the woman he was hitting on and then collapsing out of an overdose in alcohol affect me?

"...Well...rumours spread really quickly, you know?" Ludwig kept pushing, now looking at me in a concerned way.

Berwald shared his look.

Concerned Berwald, not good, not good at all.

"...Too bad for him, I suppose." I mumbled, still confused.

"He...how do I put this?" Ludwig scratched the back of his neck. "He got dumped."

"Oh?"

"...By Heather."

_Oh._

"...Sh' h's b'n l'k'ng ar'nd f'r y'."

Tino approached us innocently. "...Who's been looking around for Arthur?"

That. _Stupid._ Basketball player.

He couldn't just try to hold his liquor, could he? He had to go and ruin his idiotic and superficial relationship with Heather! He couldn't keep it in his pants, that conceited bastard!

Now she's _after_ me! I thought I had just gotten rid of a problem! Great, that's just great! An applause for Hairy Gary, an applause!

"Awgh, shite!" I growled after my internal tantrum. "And I was having such a good time in class. No suggestive poses, no post-it notes with terrible grammar and indecent invitations to her house, no bawdy insinuations, no lascivious pictures of her thrown in my locker, and no more scandalous offers...It was great but that stupid basketball player had to ruin it!"

A couple of straight guys stared at me from across the yard.

It wasn't surprising, I get those kinds of looks all the time when speaking like that.

What _was_ surprising was the fact that Feliks had straight friends.

"Oh, you must be speaking of Heather. ...Sorry, Arthur." Tino said, sending me a compassionate smile.

"No, it's alright." I answered after a heavy sigh. "She'll eventually learn that I'm not her type."

… ...I hope.

More and more people began to arrive. Among the crowds were Elizaveta and Roderich, who made their way towards us and greeted us. We were having a rather pleasant conversation despite the blaring music and the crowds of people around us. Until Alfred came by.

"Hey dudes! What's up? Uhh...why are you looking at me like I did something wrong?" He looked...desirable.

"You told us the incorrect time." Ludwig grumbled sternly.

"..._Oh_! I knew I had forgotten something! Sorry guys!" He laughed and scratched the back of his neck, sweating slightly.

"Are you fucking retarded?" Lovino screamed at him from the top of his lungs. "I had to spend a freaking fucking hour with the potato bastard! Do you have any idea of how annoying that is, you useless American idiot? This guy is a fucking weirdo and his accent is stupid!"

...Did he just say 'freaking fucking'? Freaking fucking, freaking fucking, freaking fucking...

Ludwig frowned, obviously not happy at what Lovino had said. Feliciano tried to stop his brother (and tried the typical 'hug therapy'), but Lovino began to yell at him again.

And so it began.  
...Or more like continued.

I sighed heavily and pushed Alfred away from Lovino's loud screams. "I can't believe you did that. You begged me to come, yet you gave me the wrong time! You're an idiot, Alfred, you know that?"

"Aww, come on. I bet it wasn't as bad as you say. It was just one hour." He looked rather ashamed now.

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. "Well, it wouldn't have been _that_ bad if Lovino hadn't been yelling at all of us. You know how he gets. Especially with Ludwig."

"Oh...well I guess I did screw up." Alfred mumbled deep in innocent thought. "I should go apologize to them."

"If I were you, I'd let them vent out a little. Ludwig's not a violent man, but _God_, Lovino can get to be a real pain in the ass. I'd be smacking you if I were him, you know?"

"Oh, but you're not as pissed with me as he is, are you?" He grinned goofily.

I grumbled. "You're one lucky git."

Alfred laughed. "Oh! By the way, I heard about Heather! Sorry, man!"

"Oh, pfft." I shrugged lightly. "I stopped caring about this whole deal five minutes after I found out she dumped...uh...that basketball guy. We're not meant to be together. Anyone with at least half a brain should be able to identify it."

"Well, she certainly isn't able to." Alfred teased.

"I said half a brain." Which, obviously, she didn't have.

By now Elizaveta had walked away from the loud crowd (where Roderich was being forced to be mediator between Ludwig and Lovino). "What are you two talking about?"

Only about the reincarnation of Vlad the Impaler.

"Heather" we both answered at the same time.

"Oh," she made a face of discomfort. "...Sorry about that, Arthur."

"I don't care, you know?" I replied. "I just hope she won't be sexually pestering me for a while."

"...Dude...why don't you just...go out with her?" Alfred asked completely serious.

I stared at him dumbfounded. "...I'm sorry?"

Pardon my French, but WHAT IN THE NAME OF BLOODY FUCK DID YOU HAVE THIS MORNING? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, YOU YANKEE DOUCHEBAG!

"I said: why don't you just go out with her?" He repeated.

I frowned suspiciously. "And what makes you think she'll ask me out?"

He laughed, "Oh, come on! You're a great guy! Why wouldn't she want to go out with you? I mean, really?"

"That's not a reason, Alfred." I answered as straightly as I could. Though we all know that inside, my heart switched positions with my stomach.

"Well...umm..." He mumbled surprised.

Pfft, he actually thought I wasn't expecting an answer, how sweet.

I raised an eyebrow expectantly (trying really hard not to chuckle).

"Uhh..." He was nervous. His cheeks were getting rosy! "W-well...umm... Just-D-dude! J-just go out with her!"

I decided to stop teasing him mainly because I knew if I heard a compliment from him, I'd do something stupid. Like...I don't know, squeal. In _public_.

Besides, I was beginning to see _that_ smile on Elizaveta's face.

Alfred was absolutely _insane_ if he thought I was actually going to go out on a date with Vlad the Impaler's reincarnation! "You're absolutely insane if you think I'm actually going to go out on a date with Vla—uh... Heather!"

"Just think about it, Arthur! Let her ask you out and say yes! Then you take her somewhere really lame and have her spend a horrible night! That way she'll notice that you two won't ever get along!"

Elizaveta nodded. "That actually sounds like a good idea, you know? You won't even have to try to act like her opposite because you already are!" She turned towards Alfred. "Oh my God, you're such a genius, Alfred!"

He grinned proudly. "I know, right?"

"Oh! I've got an even _better_ idea! Go on a double date!" Elizaveta took my hands and smiled widely. "It would be _so_ awesome! That way Alfred can give you advice! Oh, you just _have_ to agree, Arthur!"

"Woah, that sounds awesome!" Alfred laughed and nodded. "But who would I go with?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find someone! Don't worry about that for now!" She laughed loudly. Suddenly she stopped and turned around, "Hmm? Alfred, I think Ivan just asked if someone wanted to join him in a drinking contest!"

"Woah, really? I'm totally gonna beat that guy up!" He ran away looking for the scary Russian (God knows why anyone would want to mess with him!).

"...Eliza...Ivan is over there." I pointed at a table, where the Russian was hiding from his (bloody insane) sister. Needless to say, it was opposite from the place where Alfred had ran to.

She grinned slowly and _that_ look returned to her face. "I know."

"Uh...just so you know, Alfred isn't-"

"Of course he is, you silly, little, British boy!" She held my hands tightly. "I saw the way he looked at you! He _so_ likes you, Arthur!"

I blushed deeply. "H-he does not!"

"Oh my God!" She ignored me completely, "I'm so happy for you! You're finally going to go out with someone! We can do double dates! Oh, I can't wait until you two start going out!"

"E-eliza! How do you even know that A-Alfred-?" I stuttered rather loudly.

"-Oh, Arthur," she winked an eye at me, "it's called 'feminine intuition'."

"No, it's called 'too much anime'." I replied flatly.

She just laughed and hugged me tightly. "Relax, Arthur! Just trust me, okay?"

* * *

Did I use 'grade' correctly? Because I'm confused about that. Is saying 'generation' the same as saying 'class' or 'grade'?

Also, the story about the fish (when Alfred is 'digressing') is true. That's the coolest fish EVER. (Or at least the female is).


	8. How to Lose a Girl in One Day

CH. 8- How to Lose a Girl in One Day.

Go on, say it.

...Alright, I will: "OMG BLITZ YOU ARE SUCH A BITCH! WE THOUGHT YOU HAD BEEN CRUSHED BY A GIANT PIKACHU RIDING ON A GREEN SALMON-LION HYBRID! BUT YOU ARE TOTALLY ALIVE! ZOMG YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE HORRIBLE MONSTEEEERRR!"

You know, I think my lack of responsability regarding my fanfiction has something to do with (what my friends like to call) my "sado-masochistic tendencies".

Anyway...Mrwahahahaha...

Disclamer: I'm as sure that I don't own Hetalia (or any other companies/products/etc mentioned here) as I am that my biological parents aren't virgins.

And I'm also sure I creeped you out just now 8D

* * *

As much as I hate to say this, Alfred was correct. The week after Heather had broken up with Gary her innuendos reappeared. She actually asked me a few times to go out with her, but I never had enough courage (oh, don't you just love the irony?) to say 'yes' until three whole weeks from the party had gone by.  
When I agreed, she stared at me like her brain had spilled from the side.  
Though we all know that's impossible since she probably didn't have one anyway.

The first person to know that I had said 'yes' to Heather was...well, I don't really know. She screamed so loud that I'm sure you all probably heard her, wherever you are, readers. Yes, that loud screech that sounded like people were dropped in a giant blender was Heather.

Either way, she agreed on going on a double date with Alfred. The thing is, Alfred didn't have a date. So we decided to get one of the people we knew to act like they were going out.  
The first person in our list was...Elizaveta. But she was dating Roderich, so it was out of the question.  
We asked a few other girls, but most of them were going to go to another big party at Gary's place (...the guy basically posted in his facebook profile: "I'M SO NEEDY AND DESPERATE FOR AFFECTION THAT I NEED ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND! TRYOUTS ARE THIS WEEKEND AT MY PLACE! LOT'S OF ALCOHOL AND SHIT AND THE LULZ!").  
...Okay, so I might have invented that. ...The point is that they were occupied! And the ones that weren't going were just not interested in helping us.  
When we thought we wouldn't find a date for Alfred, he remembered a friend of his: Emma, a girl from Belgium that was a year younger than us. Thank God she agreed, and thank God she was friendly and nice. She was a tall, pretty girl with short, wavy, pale brown hair and warm, green eyes.

And it was all going to be perfectly horrible. Yes, yes. Horrible and great.

BUT, since life apparently loves to laugh at me, Emma ended up cancelling because she had to look after her siblings.

So we were left with no one. Eliza took pity on us and told us she'd fix it. And she did "fix it". Or at least I suppose you could call it that way…

Eventually, the (ominous) date day came by. I walked over to Heather's house and picked her up. She was wearing a rather fancy dress and heels. When she saw I was dressed casually, she got worried and wondered if she should go get changed. But I said she looked great, so she stayed with those clothes on.

We walked about a block from her house, then she asked me where was the car. I answered that there was no car, we were taking the bus.  
She almost fainted.  
I admit I was pretty cruel, but you must understand that I really wanted to get her off my back!  
So we stepped on the bus and stayed pretty silent until we got down. Then we went together to the restaurant where we had agreed to meet Alfred and his "date". I made her wear something to cover her eyes before arriving there to surprise her even more...

"Umm...Arthur, darling, can I open my eyes now?" She asked as we walked down the streets.

I shook my head. "No, just walk a little more. We're almost there."

"But we've been walking for, like, a long time now!"

I grinned. "Oh, but walking is good for your legs."

"How much more do we need to walk?" She stomped her feet on the ground childishly.

"Just three more blocks."

"Three more blocks?" She complained loudly. "You're nuts, Arthur Kirkland!"

After three blocks, we arrived at the place where we would be eating. Alfred's idea, by the way. I could have never imagined anyone even thinking about going to that...place for any type of meeting. So, where did I take Heather on our first (and last) date...?

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

She did this dramatic slow-motion thing in which she took the bandanna off her face and opened her eyes slowly. "Oh my God! Arthur, you brought me to the most expensive restaurant in the city!"

"Uh...turn around."

She turned around and stared at the colorful building. "... … … … … … This is, like, a joke, right?"

"Nope."

Almost in cue, Alfred and his date approached us from the door. "Hello! I'm so glad you're here! You took a while!" He greeted us with a broad smile.

"We came by bus. The stop is several blocks away." I answered merrily.

"Sweet!" He laughed.

Heather didn't say anything. She just _stared_ at Alfred's date. She looked...uh...like she usually looked...wearing her typical frilly dress and a bow on her head.

"Hello Natalia! How have you been doing?" I greeted her charmingly. "I believe you know Heather?"

Natalia seethed at her and made a weird noise that sounded like a muffled _'Stay the hell away from Ivan'_!  
Or maybe she just said _'yes'_.

"Right..." Heather mumbled, backing away from Natalia slowly. "Umm...Alfred, since when have you two been, like, you know...?"

"Oh, umm..." He placed a hand around Natalia's waist awkwardly. "A few weeks now! I mean, who couldn't love those eyes? They remind me of...umm...Hannibal Lecter! And her voice is so...uh...you know! Uh! Anyways!" Alfred clapped his hands once. "Let's go inside!" He and Natalia made their way inside the building, us following from behind.

Right before we entered the building, Heather pulled on my sleeve. "...Umm...sweety, our first date isn't going to be in this place."

I faked an insulted look. "Why? My mother and father met in 'Platipizzas'. They had their first kiss in this same restaurant." I replied as seriously as I could. "Our whole family loves this place. In fact, my brother's wedding reception was here."

Heather stared at me. "Oh my God, that's so lame. What kind of person does that? ...Like...seriously?"

"Of course!" I nodded profusely and pulled her inside.

I just invented that whole thing up. My mother and father met because my mother was a waitress at a caffé that my father really liked in Great Britain (where there is no abomination called 'Platipizzas'), and my brother's wedding reception was in Tylney Hall.  
Puh-lease.  
...I have to stop hanging out so much with Elizaveta.

The inside of the building was _horrible_ for a date. It was an abomination in all its splendour. The walls were colored in bright blue, purple, yellow, and orange, and they were decorated with drawings of a smiling, orange platipus and it's friends the green koala bear and the purple monkey: the three mascots of the restaurant.  
The whole place was full of little children running around like they were high on sugar, and it smelled like feet combined with pizza and ketchup. As we made our way through the tables, the parents of the kids stared at us (especially at Heather, who was wearing a fancy, short, pink dress, heels, and make-up).  
Close to the area where all the kids were playing (It reminded me of certain american restaurant that starts with "Mc" and ends with "Donald's"), I could only hear screams, laughter, and clumsy footsteps from the little boys and girls running around excitedly. It was louder than my whole (very British) family when watching a football match against France. It was so horrible that I actually now believe that Hell includes a similar version of this restarurant wannabe.

We sat down in some random table at the corner of the restaurant (rather close to the area where kids played). The silence was pretty awkward at the beginning, until some guy a few years older than us, wearing a silly hat and a colorful attire, asked us what we would like to eat. He looked pretty bored. Alfred answered for all of us, and then the guy left with a small nod.

"Umm...so...we're not staying here, are we?" Heather mumbled awkwardly.

"No, of course not." I replied with a short laughter. "After this, I have a surprise for you."

To my amazement, she rolled her eyes. "Arthur. No. I'm tired of your stupid surprises. Seriously, this sucks."

"Aw, you've hurt my feelings." I replied, trying to sound sad. But I failed.

"Why don't you come over to my place and we do something more...fun there." She winked an eye at me.

"Uh...no, I don't think so." I moved a little bit further away from her. "You see, I'm going to wait until I am married."

"Seriously? Until you're married?" She laughed really hard. "OH! Hahahaha! Come on, Arthur! That's so stupid!"

And I'm such a liar. "My parents waited." … ...I think.

"Oh, they did?" She snorted and rolled her eyes. "_Anyways_..."

How disrespectful! "Yeah, uh... Alfred, what do you think about _Romeo and Juliet_? It's good isn't it?"

He nodded. "Oh yes. I really like the play so far. It's interesting when..." he discreetly looked at some notes he had written on his hand before coming over, "-when Merculio—I mean, _Mercutio_ and Romeo are...uhh...speaking. Uh-huh." I'd like you to know that this whole conversation was planned.

Wow, he...sucked. A ten-year-old wouldn't buy it. "Those two are witty, aren't they? What do you think the themes in _Romeo and Juliet_ are?"

Heather raised her eyebrows. "Seriously, Arthur? We're speaking about that dumb play? We haven't even read it yet, I mean, really."

_Romeo and Juliet_ dumb? Ugh. No wonder I don't like her.

I was about to say something when someone tapped at my shoulder. I turned around rather surprised because no one I knew came to 'Platipizzas'. ...I think.

"What's up, Arthur?" You'd never guess who it was! Lexy! "Umm...what are you doing here? ...And who are these people?"

Before I could open my mouth and answer, Alfred waved his hand and greeted her. "Hi! We're Arthur's friends! My name's Alfred F. Jones! Nice to meet you!"

"Uh...Hello. I'm friends with Arthur too." Lexy raised an eyebrow and turned to see me. "Could I ask you something in...private?"

"Of course! I'll be back in a few." I stood up and followed her a few meters away from them.

"Okay...first of all, why was that guy screaming?"

"...He's American." I answered.

"Of course he is. ...He's lucky he's cute." She mumbled shaking her head.

"He sure is." I replied without even noticing I had just said that out loud.

She looked at me suspiciously. "... … ...You're into him...aren't you?"

I turned rosy red. Wow, that sounded gay. "W-w-what makes you think that? I'm not-! Okay, fine. I am. And I do like him. Is it that blatantly obvious?"

"...I was joking, you know." She grinned at me amused. Smart ass. "...I knew you were not into women, either way..."

"HEY!" How the bloody hell did she-?

"Ever since that party when a hot girl almost kissed you, but you pushed her away. And you were _drunk_, Arthur Kirkland." She answered as if she had known what I was thinking.

"I don't-!"

"-Anyway, what are you doing here of all places?" She interrupted me, still smiling like a fox.

I frowned at her for changing the subject so suddenly. "I'm on a-" Someone tugged at my arm.

"Arthur, aren't you going to introduce _me_?"

"Ah...sure. Lexy, this is Heather. Heather this is Lexy." I replied.

"We're on a double date." Heather grinned proudly and took hold of my arm.

Lexy looked at her, then at me, then at Alfred, and finally at Natalia (who was too occupied mumbling something in Russian about Ivan). Then she took a long look around us: at all the kids running around shoeless, smelling like pizza.

Then she laughed. Loudly and for quite a while.  
In fact, she had to sit down and hold her stomach.

Heather was not pleased at all. "Why are you laughing? This is seriously a date! I mean...I know this place sucks and all, and it's really lame...but it's a date!"

Lexy finally stopped laughing and shook her head, wiping a tear from her eye. "Right...so...I should get going. I came here to pick up my sister. I suppose I'll see you Sunday, Arthur?"

"Yeah, see you then." I waved my hand as she disappeared into the colorful, plastic jungle. We walked back.

"_Who was she_?" Once Lexy was out of earshot, Heather hissed and seethed at me. "You'll see her _Sunday_? You're not seeing anyone on Sunday, Arthur Kirkland."

I looked at her with raised eyebrows. "She's a friend of mine, and I can do as I please with anyone any day of the week."

Heather intensified her glare. When I didn't change my expression she turned around, crossed her arms, and pouted. How mature.  
We walked all the way to were Alfred was and sat down on the table.

"Uh...While you two were away, the food arrived!" Alfred pointed at the pizza casually.

I stared at the food. "Hey, there's less than half left! How much did you eat? We were gone for less than five minutes!"

"Oh, no, no, no! Don't look at me! I only ate one piece!" He replied as surprised as I was. "Uh...Natalia was...really hungry."

She licked her lips expressionless.

"O...kay..." Heather mumbled. Honestly, I was almost as freaked-out as her.

After the pizza, we left the building (to never come back, by the way). When I stepped outside and the aroma of the city hit my nosetrils, I noticed how trully horrible it smelt inside Platipizzas. Ewgh.  
Anyway, we went to walk to a park that was nearby.

"Aww! Arthur, this is so cute!" Heather held my arm like a tic holds on to a dog.

"Yeah, right..." I mumbled disinterested.

"Oh! You said there was a surprise for me! Can I see it now?" She jumped up and down, dragging my arm along.

"Oh, Alfred arranged everything that has to do with it, so it will be a surprise for me as well."

"Oh my God, we're sharing a surprise?" Heather squeaked. "I can't wait!"

"I asked a friend to bring it. He'll be around at any moment now!" Alfred laughed his typical-American laugh.

About two minutes later we saw the person who was bringing the surprise walk around the corner of the park, holding a box with holes on his hands.  
Gilbert Weilschmidt.  
And Ludwig.  
...And Feliciano.

"Hey, dude!" Gilbert and Alfred high-fived. "Arthur Kirkland! Long time no see, huh?How have you all been? I see you brought your...dates?"

"Yep." Alfred grinned nervously as he pointed at Natalia.

I...didn't say anything about Heather. "I see you all came for a stroll?"

"I was actually going to come by myself, but I'm awesome enough that I decided to bring my baby brother and his _freund_ (1) with me, if you know what I mean!" Of course we didn't, but we had a pretty good idea seeing as how Ludwig turned into a funny tone of red.

"_Bruder_!" Ludwig sent a menacing look towards Gilbert. "That's a lie, our grandfather told me to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

Ah yes. Herr 'Legolas' Weilschmidt.

"I see..." Alfred said between muffled laughs. "Anyway, did you bring the surprise?"

"Ja!" He showed us the package. "Enjoy!"

I took it with curiosity. I honestly had no idea of what was inside, so...yeah.

"Oh my God, I'm so excited!" Heather clung tighter to my arm.

And I opened the box.

"...are those chicks?" Literally, there were chicks in the box. Little, yellow, baby birds chirping and eating seeds.

"Uh..." Heather stared at them with utter disgust. "Arthur?"

"What?" I asked, petting one of the little things. They were sort of cute, all fluffy and soft.

...what?

"Can we...talk for a few minutes?" Her voice was so...still...

"Alright." I nodded and followed her away from the crowd.

"Arthur...honestly..." her voice began to quiver... "I...I don't think we...should keep seeing each other anymore."

I raised an eyebrow. "...O...kay? It was ni-"

"-I don't know, Arthur, alright?" She interrupted me and swayed her hands with indignation.

I...honestly don't know why she was feeling indignant, if I was going to say: _'It was nice having a date, let's never talk again, buh-bye!'  
_"But-"

"-No, Arthur, we can't go out." She held my shoulders and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, we...we don't belong with each other."

"Alright, I-"

"-Shh..." She _dared_ to shut me up! "There's nothing you can do to change it."

"Heather, listen-"

"-Arthur!" Her mood suddenly transformed into resentment and anger. "Just let it go, okay? You were not good enough for me, I told you there's nothing you can do to change it! It's our first date and you talk about your parents, you take me to a horrible restaurant, our surprise sucks...! And, I mean, you were talking about _Shakespeare_ during our date! No one does that, Arthur Kirkland, no one! Only-!" She stopped suddenly and looked at me with pity "...Only...only losers."

Well, flip me over and fuck me!  
...Not literally.  
Unless it's Alfred.  
Or Brad Pitt.

"Heather! For God's sake, stop yelling!" I answered, already a little impatient. Honestly, I thought she'd leave as soon as I said we were eating at Platipizzas.

"Oh, my God!" She gasped and took a step behind. "You yelled at me! I can't believe you did that, Arthur Kirkland! I thought you were a true gentleman!"

She began to _cry_.  
And everyone around us stared -the couples, the parents, the children, the random guy that sold ice cream, and even the dogs.  
And she continued to cry. Loudly. With sobs and hiccups and slurping noises.  
I couldn't help but stare at her with blank eyes, a gaping mouth, and crossed eyebrows.

"I—I don't... wa-want to s-s-see you ever ag-ag-again!" She mumbled with difficulty through her sobs. "And give those filthy...things back! They are dirty and...! Ugh! I don't want them!" And she ran away, crying.

I started wondering if hormone-blocking a girl was possible.  
I didn't even try to stop her because...well...you know. She's scary.  
And she owns a blackberry and a limo. I'm sure she can take care of herself.

"...Well, what are you all staring at? As if you've never had a bad date!" I basically spit back at everyone staring at me. And they just returned to their normal tasks of playing and selling and walking.

"...So..." Alfred mumbled when I returned. "...success?"

"Success." I sighed back, handing the box with chickens to Gilbert.

"...I can't believe she doesn't like chicken." Was all he could say. "Anyway, guys, see you around. Gotta get back home. Let's go, Luffie! Feli!"

"Ve! Goodbye, guys! See you later!" Feliciano waved his hand and followed Gilbert.

"Good night, Arthur, Alfred." Ludwig shook our hands and stomped after his brother, "don't call me _Luffie_!" he hissed through his teeth.

Alfred laughed and stretched his arms. "By the dawn's early light! I never thought we would get rid of her!"

I liked how he said '_we_'.

But 'By the dawn's early light'? Really?

"Anyway, I bet it's time for you to go see your brother, right, Natalia?" Alfred patted her in the back.

"Brother, brother, brother, brother, brother..." She mumbled, hugging her arms and swaying back and forth.

..._God_, is she scary.

"Want a ride?" He offered, scratching the back of his neck. "You used the bus, right? I'll take you home after dropping Natalia off."

"Alright, I'd appreciate that." I answered, blushing lightly.

"Very well, let's go!"

We followed Alfred to his car. In case you are wondering, we dropped Natalia at Ivan's.

He wasn't happy, but Alfred didn't seem to care much. He's the only guy I know that isn't scared of Ivan. ...besides Ludwig and I. Because I'm not scared of Ivan or anything, I mean...

Okay, fine. I'm scared of Ivan. I have nightmares about him and scream like a little girl whenever I wake up from one of them. Happy? ...Screw you. And not in a good way.

He drove me home. When we arrived, it was already beginning to get dark outside.

"Today was a nice day. I've never had a double-date before." Alfred commented as the car parked in front of my house. "Especially one like this."

"Yeah, me neither." I replied, unbuckling the belt. I was about to open the door and leave, but he got out of the car and ran to open my door before I could protest (drooooooool...). ...Not that would protest.

"Th-thank you." I answered as I got out of the car, trying to sound serious and completely not-affected by such a charming action.

"No problem man!" He smiled and lead the way to my house. "So...do you think Heather will stop bothering you now?"

"For sure." I replied, a smile lingering on my lips. "It feels like a weight has been pulled off my chest. Thanks, Alfred, for helping me out."

"Dude, I would've done this any day." He grinned and gave me a light hug with one arm. "Anyway, I gotta go. It's pretty late. See you tomorrow, Arthur!" He ran back and got inside his car, but not before giving me a light peck.

"Uh-huh...tomorrow." I sounded as intelligent as a frozen cabbage.

And he drove away.  
I walked inside the house, which was conveniently almost empty (except for Peter and Colin, who were watching cartoons in the living room), and automatically went to my room.  
In my room, I collapsed on the bed with a loud and very gay sigh.  
...He pecked my cheek! And he was grinning, and his eyes were so _blue_, and oh my gawd, is he sexy or _what_?

* * *

Apparently, the US and Belgium have a friendly relationship.

(1) Freund- german for 'friend'. It may also mean 'boyfriend'. Yes, Gil just pwnd Ludwig with a word.


End file.
